Beyond Our Sight
by Ryukansen
Summary: He was always made fun of because of his ability to see the supernatural, but he never really cared, despite the whole town's bullying frenzy. One day, after getting locked inside a haunted house he meets an unlikely creature. And falls in love with him.
1. Ghost

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter One: **Ghost

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**Author's Notes: **Thanks for being patient with this chapter, folks! I hope you guys enjoy this new story I've managed to concoct during my planning on _Losing Grace_! And as always, please _**read & review**_ if you have the time.

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"_Shush, be quiet." _The voice whispered sweetly as he hid himself behind the silver slide; kneeling and crushing his knees hard against the mulch. _"If you keep on crying, they'll find you_." The creature replied, gazing at the innocent boy with irritation but obvious sympathy.

The little child tried his best not to whimper, but it was so obvious that he would soon be found - even he knew the inevitable punishment ready to await him. The small pixie let out a frustrated sigh as she stared at the helpless being. But even she could do nothing about his predicament. She was so powerless in _his_ world.

Footsteps started pounding harder; and he could hear the crispness of each step; the children were getting closer, and so his heart began to beat even louder than before. The child gasped as he felt the sudden jolt of a hand clasping hard onto his shoulder. His sandy locks bobbed up and down from the sudden contact, and he let out a high pitched scream out of fear.

"So here you were, you jerk!" cried his classmates as they dragged him out of his hiding place to torment him in public. The child braced himself, and began to shield his whole being with his frail arms. The pixie could do nothing as she watched him fend for himself. "You have a lot of nerve to treat us like rubbish, you know?" The leader of the group of quartet muttered in an angry voice while pushing the weak boy abruptly down.

The boy could feel the strange sensation of cold, sharp grass scraping around his knees and elbows. A sudden whack in the head, and his world began to spin in different speed intervals. His breathing grew harsh, and his heart started to pound even louder than before. It was as if he was near death! "Get up, Kirkland!" A shadow loomed over him, and he remembered turning his small head around to face the other children standing above him with smug grins on their round faces.

He didn't know what he did to anger the other children on the blacktop, but he knew that he was in great trouble after staring into the chubby child's glaring, brown eyes. The other children surrounding the boy sniggered as he grabbed his arm roughly, only to throw him back on the grass, bruising him even more. "That's what you get!" He spat at the boy, tugging onto the collar of his striped uniform with dignity before leaving to impress some girls giggling at the event. A teacher had been roaming around, and apparently, the awful child chickened out and stopped with his teasing. "You lunatic!" Their voices sang merrily; running away from any person with authority's sight.

"_Are you alright?" _His pixie friend fluttered towards him with teary eyes as she floated over him in concern. A small smile graced his thin face as he nodded, reassuring her. _"Jeez, those children. They're evil pricks!"_ She replied while crossing her arms and gazing at them with a mocking glare. _"But you; Arthur, you're different from the other children_." She retorted, gentle purple eyes gazing at him with fondness. _"You are very special_." She replied with a smile.

Arthur Kirkland always had these problems every now and then with the local children. He was not a very social boy because he always cast himself away to talk with magical creatures; foolishly ignoring his classmates. So, in the end, he immediately started worrying both his parents and the teachers after displaying disinterest with the other fifth graders. He was a social outcast. He remembered full well how his parents had perfect scowls traced onto their thin, grayish lips - and he remembered the big scolding he would always receive if he were to ever talk about _foolish, magical nonsense. _But he didn't really mind; no, in fact it made him all the more into magic.

The young Briton never really cared of what others thought; especially about him. Why should he care about what they thought when he had so many other things to do and see? He had a remarkable ability to see hidden mythical creatures, and he had absolutely no time to deal with their obvious jealousy.

They were apparently missing out on something beautiful - something spectacular! They were clearly not meant to see the pixies, faeries, and most definitely the entrancing unicorns. Seeing those creatures were a blessing, and he believed that only the pure hearted were able to see it. He was so engulfed in his mystical studies, he would be crazy to trade them for anything else! Hence, the reason why he always hushed up when children punished him for their own accord. It was better to be punished than them having to see his own treasure.

Those children were dirty he concluded. How else could they not see the creatures? His parents were just conforming with the other dirty people to look good as well; because that is how society always have worked. And so that's what he had been telling himself the whole time. Everyone around him was just not _good enough_.

Those who couldn't see the magic, were not meant to even be his friends. No exceptions.

That was his rule, and he would _not_ change it. He swore to it and **would keep **the promise until the end of time.

Not even ten years from now, would he ever change that rule…

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"They say he's a lunatic~" Sang children across Maddry Street while they gazed at a slender, medium height man walking towards a nearby shop. "Watching children pass the night! Talking to himself and no one else~ Ready to give them a huge fright!" Their voices rung with extreme mockery as the man continued on into the shop. "Arthur Kirkland, that's his name, Arthur Kirkland, watch out, it's no game!" The song ended and a fit of laughter ensued.

"_What a bunch of immature oafs." _A voice gasped with annoyance as the young man trudged into a street corner. _"Honestly, I wonder who brought those lads up!"_ The voice grumbled as the person ventured through the street way shops.

"Well Epsilon, it's not like _this _small town has anything better to do, it's always been like that. And their children is no exception ." The man responded back irritably while earning sardonic gazes wherever he passed by. "Look, now they think I'm mumbling to myself again." He sighed with a reluctant glare. The voice huffed as he reached his destination. "I think I'll talk to you later, alright?" The man replied softly, patting the soft mane of an unicorn. "I don't want them to get any more ideas of how to spoil my day."

"_Very well, old friend." _The mystical beast sighed with boredom staring at the man with smiling amethyst eyes, and slowly faded into the evening sky. _"Call me if you wish to talk to anyone, alright? I don't like you talking to Makara all the time_." He grunted in obvious jealousy. The man only smiled as he left him in front of a beverage shop.

Now a full adult, the twenty one year old Briton stared dazedly outside the comfortable tea shop he was sitting in. If it weren't for his gentleman- upbringing he would have clobbered those mangy children for insulting him; but his unicorn friend insisted he not harm them.

Although he was a grown-up, he had still kept his promise (as one can see); and as a result barely had any friends in the town besides the pixie and unicorn living with him. The sweet aroma of herbal green tea suddenly awoken him from his reverie and filled his nostrils as he sighed delightfully appreciating his order from the familiar vendor.

"Here's your usual, Kirkland-san!" The kind waiter replied as he bowed gently while handing him the daily newspaper before running back behind the counter with his eldest brother. Arthur smiled in thanks.

It was a rather nice and tidy shop. Caramel striped wallpaper and chocolate brownie tiling made it seem more appealing. A grand mahogany fan whisked about in the center of it all, and the equally beautiful window frames with flower designs just made it more cozy for him.

Not many people entered it because of the coffee business' sudden popularity in the small town, though. But it was one reason why he immediately felt himself at ease once he stepped inside to see no one he absolutely knew.

Coffee was such an awful excuse of a beverage to him, anyways; it always left some bitter trailing in his mouth whenever he decided to try some new taste.

Honestly he could rant forever about the disgusting drink, but other than insulting the invention of coffee and wasting time there were further observations to make.

The tea shop was run by a young lad by the name of Wang Yao, and his younger siblings, Kiku and Young Soo. They were a nice, modest group of people that he had started to feel welcomed to. They were the most kind in the town to not be so immature and rude towards him; partly because they had moved in two years ago and were not influenced by the town's outcries of Arthur's 'reputation.' Of course, he never took any actions to make friends with them. They all knew about his "special ability" (it was a small town after all), but none of them really believed it despite their interest in the magical world.

They were just acquaintances; that was all.

Staring down at the newspaper given to him by Kiku he gazed at the headline with boredom. "Hmph, another traffic accident, is there?" He retorted quite bored while gazing at the short summary below the image of the crash. "One killed, two severely injured." He murmured to himself while mixing his cup of tea in a slow, repetitive motion. "Another one of these accidents; there was at least a dozen of them the past month." He spoke to particularly no one, but it was alright since everyone already knew how he spoke to himself often like that. He was a lunatic after all.

Enjoying his cup of Chamomile tea the small chiming alarm bell rung as a new customer entered the shop with a look of airy dignity. Arthur couldn't help but look at the young man entering, hoping that it was no one he knew.

"Bonjour!" Replied the new visitor with his heavy French accent, he smiled at Kiku who was behind the counter and who, in return, greeted the Frenchman with a mutual grin. The Frenchman took a seat on a stool near the marble countertop as he began to make his order. Arthur turned slightly around to see a better view of who he thought was an old classmate.

Unfortunately it _was_ an old classmate, and he happened to be part of the quartet group he was constantly bullied by.

The wino bastard was named Francis Bonnefoy. He was extremely well fit with shapely limbs, and had a beautiful peachy complexion. His golden, well-tamed hair hung loosely around his jaw lines and he had one of the most alluring violet eyes ever, it was no wonder why girls and boys both fell in love with him. He was _also _known; however, to be a heartbreaker. But, alas, why would Arthur care about that old git?

"What would you like to order today, Francis-san?" Kiku replied sweetly as he eyed his youngest brother, Young Soo, taking a peak at the chocolate strawberry cake Wang had made to become the main attraction of the dessert window. Kiku promptly whacked the boy's hand lightly with a stern glare.

"Ah, just wondering how business is going for you, mon cheri." Francis sighed while crossing his arms over on the countertop. "I heard that you were having some financial trouble because of your competition." He pointed at the next door coffee shop which, because of popularity, was now upgrading itself to a two-story café. It was under construction, and yet people still insisted and protested for at least the shop to open during morning hours. Wang's tea shop was barely even 2000 feet wide, on the other hand.

"Well, we can't do anything about it can we, aru?" Wang grumbled from behind the kitchen while taking Young Soo's hand and leading him towards the back door to probably wash him up. "We just have to fight back." The owner grumbled while flipping his raven hair with a flicker of annoyance.

Francis nodded in agreement and stated he would love to aid them in their fight by being their own, loyal customer.

All three owners smiled as they stared at the Frenchman with a teasing grin. "Quoi?" Francis asked as they gave him condescending smiles. "Has someone else already taken the most loyal customer title?" He asked pouting childishly. Wang shook his head and pointed out at the back corner of the room, towards a booth which was already being occupied.

"He beat you to it, a _long_ time ago." The owner smirked before commanding his youngest brother to start washing the dishes for ruining the chocolate strawberry delight he had concocted.

Francis blinked twice trying to apprehend the owner's words, and decided to take a look himself at the shop's most _loyal _customer. A smile only graced his face when his violet pools clashed against harsh cold emerald. "Well, well, well. _Bonjour_." He annunciated his welcome as he took the seat in front of Arthur.

"_Bonjour_ my arse; bugger off you git." The Briton jibed back as he took a helpful swallow of his tea and gulped it down rather exhaustedly. He had no time to talk to a nonbeliever of magic much less a floundering playboy.

"But mon amour, you are so cruel." The Frenchman feigned a sobbing moment before a smug grin crept back to his face. "So, did you hear the news?" He randomly asked gazing at the Briton's goaded stare. He sounded teasing, but his eyes shone some sort of wisdom that Arthur couldn't explain.

"If it's about the billionth traffic accident on the headline news then _yes_." He retorted quite quickly while taking another sip of his chamomile. Francis shook his head to his response making Arthur a little more curious as to the other piece of information the Frenchman was willing to give him.

"Of course not! Traffic accidents are always known and frequent in this town." Francis sighed while shaking his head in pity. "It's because of the town's ignorance that we don't buy enough traffic lights." He added in pity. " Besides this place does not even attract tourists and much less I think it does not even exist on the map." He noted pessimistically but sarcastically.

Arthur growled while glaring at him in a vicious manner. "If I ask what is it about then, can you leave me in peace?" He questioned staring at him with an awfully malicious gaze. The Frenchman's voice was annoying him. Francis nodded all the while smirking.

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He didn't know how Francis managed to lead him to a broken down building; but he had to admit just seeing the ancient house made all of his hair stand up in excitement. It had been a while since he had ventured through something like this before. "You like it, _oui?_" The dolt asked smugly as he adjusted his collar with absolute arrogance written in his expression. Arthur scowled only slightly before admiring the house's feeble appearance.

"Well, it _has_ been a while!" The Briton responded back defensively; albeit his comeback was said so poorly. Francis only smiled while putting his hands on his hips. "A-Anyways, I'm an author for mythical investigations so this should help me a great deal." Arthur replied while taking out his journal and scribbling in the date, location and reason. Francis clucked his tongue as he followed the Briton to the front porch.

As the two stood there, they could hear the screeching of the steps squeak rather loudly causing the both of them to jump.

"Well?" Francis murmured as Arthur hesitated to open the door. It really _has_ been a while since he had investigated such an area that he was beginning to grow frightened.

As soon as he stepped into the doorway, the atmosphere was chilling him to the bone. There was no lighting, of course, and, as expected of a run-down house, looked almost haunted.

Francis bit his lower lip as they entered the dining room and looked at the worn down furniture. Torn up couches lay lazily in the corner of the room and a great grand piano stood barely on it's feeble legs. The Frenchman's hands twitched in annoyance; feeling his blood drain out of them due to fright. Of course he didn't believe in ghost stories and such…but there was something incredibly wrong in this house, he could feel it.

"So, where do they say the ghost lives?" Arthur asked turning around and finding a shaking Francis (something very rare to see). The Briton could almost chuckle at the sight, but a strange glint passed through the Frenchman's eyes as if he knew something he didn't. "What?" Arthur questioned suspiciously as he stepped closer to Francis while putting his hands on his hips. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"No, of course not!" The other man defended himself while stroking down his plaid colored designer shirt. Arthur rolled his eyes while tapping his feet. "The ghost is on the second floor." Spat the Frenchman out of irritation; his lips formed a tight pout as he crossed his arms with frustration.

Arthur looked towards the ceiling and his eyes traveled along a spiraling staircase. His heart began to beat in awkward tunes and as he stepped onto one step he heard a sudden clash of wood breaking.

Turning around he found Francis had left; that coward. But…he was also feeling very strangely terrified as if something _was _lurking in the house, so he ran down back to the entrance as well.

The only problem was the door was shut closed, and he could hear muffled laughter from the other side.

"_I can't believe he fell for it_!" One person joked while he could hear some sympathy forming from the rest of the quartet group. He pounded hard against the wood but the bloody gits probably wouldn't even let him out despite of the trouble they could cause.

Honestly, they were just the same as always. Immature brats.

A small sound is made; and he jolts his head up back at the staircase. A light blue marble was slowly rolling down on each step albeit sluggishly, and he could hear his heart pound even more.

Where did that marble come from?

Soon, the muffled voices from outside suddenly left; and he could feel himself entirely lonely again. His heart was aching now and he thought he was going to die of fright, yet again.

"E-Epsilon, are you there?" Arthur stammered his unicorn's name, but apparently it was somewhere else since it never responded. "…How about you Makara?" His voice grew stiff as the room got even more cold despite numerous cracks in the window that should have been spouting the warm summer air.

"_Yes, I'm here, Arthur." _A zodiac came out all of a sudden from it's hiding position and gazed at the man with ruby eyes. _"Did you call?" _It asked staring at the frightened man with a puzzled look.

Makara was a Capricorn. He had a long slender; mermaid like tail of bluish purple scales, and the rest of his body was pure white and that of a goat; only possessing two legs instead of it's usual four. Makara was one of Arthur's favorite since the zodiac had a thing or two about responsibility, organization and of course, his favorite, loyalty.

"I-I heard something up there." Arthur pointed at the door that was closest to the staircase. A strange sound was certainly emanating from it. Makara only squinted while venturing up towards the room cautiously. "Do you see anything there?" The Briton shouted feeling a little more comfortable with the zodiac's appearance.

"_Well, no, not really." _It spoke with confusion in his tone. Arthur sighed while crossing his arms.

"What do you mean not really?" He muttered in frustration.

"_Well…I don't know if you can see him, but you can come up here!" _It shouted from the top while tapping it's hooves on the wooden floor. _"It's perfectly safe up here." _Although he could not smile his voice sounded confident and almost amused. Arthur nodded his head as he traveled towards the stairs and gently touched the hard paneling of the wooden door.

He took a peek in the huge room; which appeared to be a storage closet due to the numerous boxes toppling over on one another. But, despite Makara's reassurance, there was absolutely no one there. "Makara….nothing's there but boxes." He murmured softly. The zodiac turned it's head in alarm while checking the room once more.

"_He's right over there!" _He murmured running across the room and tapping his hooves next to the _thing's_ whereabouts.

Arthur still couldn't see anything.

"Stop freaking me out Makara - I don't see anyone-"

"Holy shit!" Another voice wailed in fear; and his emerald eyes widened as the area Makara pointed at began to be occupied by a transparent figure.

A translucent man hovered slightly on the floor while gazing at him as if he were a lunatic. He had soft, wispy hair and lively eyes. The colors weren't really faded out on the young man; he could still tell he was naturally blonde; and his eyes sparkled a rather vibrant blue.

"W-Who are you?" Arthur jumped while gazing at his surprise with equal shock. The figure stared at him with a frown plastered onto his face.

He hovered towards the living being and gazed at him sternly. "Alfred..." He admitted while flailing his arms about. "I just recently ended up here without any memories and stuff, so this is the only thing I remember, got it?" He complained like a child.

Arthur stared at the ghost in bewilderment. He had never seen a ghost before despite all of the fairy tails circulating around the whole thing. His emerald eyes bore at the ghost with extreme fascination.

"A moment ago you were invisible, can you turn back?" He asked while pointing at the ghost with frustrated eyes. Alfred only nodded and suddenly disappeared.

"I learned it while I was at this place by myself." Smirked the man proudly, who Arthur just realized, had an American accent. Oh great. An _American _ghost.

"Why the hell where you hiding from me?" The Briton grumbled bashfully while staring at the American with narrowed eyes. The ghost shrugged and looked as if he was about to pout.

"Well, it's been a while since I had human contact so I wanted to see what I could do, you know?" Smiled the ghost widely. "But then all of a sudden you started talking to yourself like a lunatic and you know you really scared me there." He muttered with a sigh of defeat. "Makara this. Makara that." He rolled his eyes lazily.

Arthur's eyes widened. So the stupid ghost couldn't see his magical creatures _either_? What the hell was wrong with this American? He grounded his teeth while clenching his hands. "Didn't you see the Capricorn next to you?" He questioned, and the ghost stared at him quizzically. "N-Never mind." He retorted while turning away. "Stupid git."

"I heard that." Alfred called out with an amused smirk. His blue eyes lighted up all of a sudden. "Hey…you're British aren't you?" His mouth hung up in awe and a new interest lighted up from what Arthur could tell.

"Yes I am, thank you for pointing out the obvious." He muttered while looking away from the ghost floating near him. Alfred only laughed.

"You welcome!" The idiot replied, oblivious to the Briton's sarcasm. Arthur honestly wanted to roll his eyes.

"So you sure you can't see him? Makara?" He asked once more, and in return Alfred spun his index finger around his left ear indicating he was crazy. "Fine! Fine! You're just like the rest of them." He muttered ready to leave after calling out Makara's name. "Nice to meet you Alfred. Hope you fine some new people to scare." He blurted out while stomping down the stairs.

The ghost; however, would not leave him alone despite his annoyed appearance.

"Oh come on, how can you be so rude to me?" Alfred asked with quivering lips. "You haven't even given me your name or anything!" He cried suddenly becoming solid while crushing the Briton hard with all his might. "Don't leave me! It's so dark and scary around there!" His lips made a tight frown. "I don't want to be alone again!" He cried.

Alfred's sudden ability to solidify made Arthur's eyes widen in shock and his brain start reeling in possibilities. Alfred could disappear and solidify; and since he could only see ghosts out of the whole town…Alfred would be some sort of guardian or something! Yes, that was right! He would make Alfred his backup!

"Very well. Come and follow me, okay?" He smiled while feeling Alfred's arms tighten against his waist. The ghost nodded in agreement while following the Briton with a shy smile.

"Thanks." Alfred replied sheepishly. "But you know…I can't step into the sun, yet. I haven't figured out how to do it without disappearing. "He murmured sheepishly. Arthur would have smacked his forehead hard, but he was going to show how gentlemanly he was.

"Then we'll wait at dusk." He grumbled and crouched down on the floor. Alfred only smiled while hovering near him.


	2. What's Next to Come

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Two: **What's Next to Come

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**Author's Note: **Thanks for all of those who took time to _**read & review! **_Sorry for the delay; this story is kind of hard to write about. And I'm sorry if I haven't been able to reply to any of your messages; something's wrong with the **Fanfiction Server **and it's preventing me to reply. Most of the time it says your replies don't exist. This is a short chapter primarily because it's sort of a bridge chapter for things to come. Sorry about that.

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They were walking through an empty hallway; silently ignoring all the strange sounds emitting from each room as they strode towards the Briton's residence.

It was an uncomfortable silence, Alfred had to admit, but nevertheless he was quite cheerful to have found a new companion to play with. Of course, Arthur didn't seem like a friendly toy, but he had a feeling they would get along perfectly fine.

In fact, they were doing just great ignoring one another despite Alfred's constant, purposeful whining.

"Will you quit that?" The Englishman grumbled as he pulled out his brass key and began walking towards a number that read '102.' After unlocking the door he jerked the entrance with a hard pull, almost falling before he steadied his balance. "Get in before I-" A frown escaped his face before he noticed Alfred's sympathetic grin.

"It's okay Artie, I can get in, by myself." Winked the ghost as he traveled through the wall paneling with a chuckle. "Though I appreciate that you're trying to be nice as to let me go in before you do." He added, knowing the Englishman's gentlemanly behavior.

Arthur flushed red with anger, and slammed the door tight as soon as he got in.

With no moment to spare the idiot American was flailing about the room; obviously excited to see his new home.

Arthur's place wasn't that decorative, but it wasn't bland either. There was a nice plush couch sitting in the center of the dining room with a coffee table on both ends. A television set was in front of it about eight feet away; while a mahogany fan spun around lazily connected to the ceiling.

There was also a nice, spotless kitchen and of course, the young man's bedroom which _he _was prohibited to enter despite his ability to operate through walls.

"So, Arthur, I was meaning to ask you something?" Alfred replied as he entered the young man's apartment and hovered around the spacious living. He was floating around; basically swimming through the room while taking peeks through all the nooks and crannies of his shelves and bookcases while humming an irritating song.

He was increasingly becoming annoying.

"Go on, spit it out." The Briton muttered while taking off his cobalt jacket and adjusting his raven black tie loosely around his stiff neck. It had been a while since the moon arrived, and he was just glad to come back home, safely. Stupid ghost. How the hell _couldn't_ Alfred step into the sunlight? He wasn't a vampire, for goodness sakes! If he could solidify he should be able to resist the sun's rays!

"How can _you_ see _me_?" The American ghost finally asked while plopping onto the couch; solidifying while staring at him with saucer-shaped eyes. His long-limbed arms draped around the pearly-white couch while his legs propped onto the other end, lazily. He was exceptionally tall.

Arthur was going to bark about manners at the time, but he wanted to restrain his temper by answering the dolt's question.

He really didn't know how to explain his natural gift because it was the first time someone has ever asked him, and he immediately turned pink as he tried to enlighten his magical property with a detailed explanation.

"Well, it's actually pretty amazing, really." He stuck his chest out with pride while looking at the ghost with eager determination to explain all about his magical abilities. "I was born with a gift, you see? An amazing gift from nature, itself!" He added, his emerald eyes battering in happiness as he recalled the first time he had met Epsilon and Makara.

It was through a strange woodland near his uncle's villa where he had met the unicorn and zodiac respectively. They were hiding away from him as if he were a hunter; but nevertheless he had some sort of magical property that lured them to come to him. It was like a game of hide and seek for the three of them, and well, he managed to seek them and become their friends. It _was_ quite amazing after all; the whole story nearly made his heart flutter with a warm feeling inside.

He was expecting some sort of kind response, but he should have expected less from the idiot American.

What he got though, in the end of his explanation, instead of admiration and wonder, was a fit of laughter from the stupid ghost, himself.

"Wow, you are pretty crazy, aren't you?" Alfred chided as he sat up from the chair and gazed at the man with half-lidded eyes. Arthur wanted to shove him off the couch and kick him till he bled to death (if he could), but, no, he was a gentleman and kicking a ghost had absolutely no effect. He _will_ behave, especially to the stupid git who would become his bodyguard in a manner of days. And yet…he could still fight back verbally if he so pleased.

"Well, I'm not crazy if I can see you, _can I_?" He retorted back folding his arms close to his chest while huffing that smug grin across his flushed face. The American's eyes widened with a small realization; but that cocky smile still managed to stay in it's place.

"I guess that's one good reason for being weird." He uttered out absentmindedly, making Arthur blush a deep red in embarrassment.

_W-What an insolent fool! _How could he be talking like that to someone like him? He saved him from his loneliness AND the dark, hadn't he? So where was all the respect?

"I'm sorry, but, has your mother ever taught you any manners?" He grounded his teeth suddenly while staring at the American who slumped his shoulders in a bored demeanor. He could feel all his blood draining from his fists as he kept clenching them numerous times.

"Told you, I woke up dead and with no memories." The American grumbled, rolling his eyes as if he were pointing out the obvious. "I might have not even had a mother, so you should apologize!" He then added thoughtlessly. Arthur grimaced at the response. Well, at least there was nothing and no one to interfere with his plans with the ghost. He purposely chose to ignore the other man's comment and closed his eyes feeling an impending headache.

"You okay there, buddy?" Alfred muttered as he watched Arthur bring his thumb and forefingers and massage his temples. He seemed to be quite agitated, but that never got the American to stop with his questions. Arthur's eyes suddenly bolted open; a flaring green gave a penetrating stare at Alfred as if he was going to say something quite witty.

Seconds passed in silence as they continued to lazily gaze at one another. Arthur was furrowing his brows as he contemplated on how to approach his proposal to the idiot American, while Alfred just stared in competition; obviously believing it was some sort of staring contest due to Arthur's unresponsive behavior.

"Will you quit that?" He fumed, finding his heart beat intensely whenever the ghost gazed at him with too much attention. Alfred quickly blinked and let out a bashful smile.

"Whatever you say." He replied merrily.

Another few seconds pass by.

"Say Alfred, since I'm helping you out by letting you stay with me…" Arthur's tone softened as he stared determined towards the young man. His blue eyes gazed at him with interest while the Briton continued to contemplate on what to say. "…Since…you're a ghost, and I'm the only one able to see you…what do you say about becoming my bodyguard?" He asked staring at the man with a serious gaze.

Alfred squirmed a bit in his seat; fiddling with his thumbs as he turned a bright pink. Honestly, what could he say to such an enticing proposal? The Briton wanted his help, but what for? How badly _did_ the guy need him? He had no idea. His blue eyes wandered around the room, further annoying Arthur, but once his eyes settled onto Arthur's his mouth hung open with all intentions to accept.

But what came out though was a blunt, "forget it."

Arthur was completely mortified with the man's easy response. In fact, he was already expecting the American to jump with enthusiasm and accept his proposal and as soon as he heard Alfred reject his plea he nearly had a heart attack.

"P-Pardon?" The Briton muttered in disbelief while staring at the arrogant ghost pouting at him with crossed arms.

"How do _I_ know you're not a bad guy?" Was Alfred's first question as he crossed his legs; one over the other. He looked so childish in his position it nearly angered Arthur who was trying to get his permission. He felt so stupid with getting the acceptance of a hopeless, idiotic, rude American.

"W-well…I did let you come with me, didn't I?" He replied too innocently coupled with feigned, teary eyes. He clasped his fingers together in a tight bond as he gritted his teeth in complete fury. This American was really getting on his nerves.

"True." The idiot replied with a thoughtful look. He was rubbing his bare chin with his frail fingers as he thought of more interrogative questions to further anger the Brit. "But…then again bad guys can be deceiving." He concluded with glaring blue eyes.

For the love of it all! "And what makes you _think_ I'm a bad guy?" Muttered the breathless Englishman who was ready to kick out the ghost; despite his fascination in him.

Alfred blinked twice before shrugging and ignoring him.

"I'm a hero. If I'm to protect you. I should know I'm not working with some mafia member or drug dealer or any of that sort." He reasoned with stupid logic. "Plus you're pretty crazy." He conjectured while blowing his nails with inspection. Arthur felt like he was going to tear his hair out. He was a complete imbecile. A complete imbecile.

"Well then **how**_do_ I prove that I am not whatever you think I am (_you bloody git_)?" He asked with sparkling fake eyes as he inched closer to the all superior on the couch. Alfred's eyes seemed to lighten up as he managed to smirk while biting the tip of his fingers.

"Let me see come with you for one day, and I'll decide whether or not I should help you." He smiled arrogantly while puffing his own chest up as he breathed.

Arthur gazed at him with a hard stare.

"But you still can't go in the day…can you?" He pointed at him in disbelief.

Alfred, once again, shrugged and let out a soft laugh. "Bring an umbrella. All I need is shade."


	3. Hindrances

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Three: **Hindrances

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**Author's Notes: **This story really is difficult to write. Sorry for the delay. As always, please _read & review_ if you have the time.

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The golden sun was soaking up the whole sky with it's vibrant colors of orange and red. A small hint of sapphire blue was peaking out from the amethyst, silver-lined clouds and tracing out the outlines of the emerald green copse nearby. Creamy sidewalks were becoming visible along with cobalt nightlights, as the sun began to take the center stage in the clouds; snuggled between two huge, white nimbuses.

Suddenly the color of the whole scenery was signifying a glorious, beautiful morning.

With a cooled down weather of temperatures barely exceeding 18 degrees Celsius, Arthur didn't know what to think when opening his blinds to see a perfect day ready to be ruined. He let out a frustrated sigh while running his hand through his sandy mane; grinding his teeth together as he thought about how more foolish he would look carrying an umbrella in the middle of a sun shining afternoon.

"Aw, what's wrong?" A voice suddenly piped up and Arthur twirled to find the source of his woes.

Alfred had come out from the bottom of the floor; flying around with a mocking grin as he got ready to travel with the young Briton. His large wad of energy could easily be noticed as he continued to make motions with his whole body; fluttering around almost everywhere which was giving Arthur a headache.

"You're the problem, that's what's wrong." The Briton grumbled while massaging his temples. He let out a defeated sigh as he gazed back outside his window; lifting his blinds carefully with the tips of his index fingers. Alfred remained in his position; pouting as he traveled across the room, solidifying while carrying the umbrella with his ghostly hands.

"Come on, come on! You promised to take me out!" Whined the American as he opened the umbrella inside the apartment and started twirling with it around like a child hopping around nonsensically. "Hurry up!!!" His voice chimed in the highest pitch he could muster; making the Briton cringe at the awful screeching noise, and giving in as he whipped around to glare at the supernatural being.

"Don't DO that!" Arthur jabbed at the opened umbrella in the American's hands. His eyes widened in a saucer shape as his mouth draped into a perfect "o" as if Alfred had done something dreadfully wrong. "You know how much bad luck you have _caused _me already?" He replied, voice rising as he snatched the item away and shut it down as quickly as possible.

The ghost just stared at him dumbfounded.

At first Alfred frowned as he stared at the Briton with complete confusion. But after a while of realization hitting his dense mind, a smirk slowly started forming from each corner of his lips.

"You don't actually believe in those things, right?" His obnoxious face peered down to level his sight with Arthur's green eyes. Smirk still hanging on his peachy face, the Briton only flustered further as he threatened to throw the umbrella away and not have the American ghost follow him.

"I-If you had my abilities, _you_ would understand how dangerous these curses can be! And furthermore you're already dead, how worse can it get?" He scoffed, crossing his arms while glaring at the smug American in front of him. Alfred only shrugged while whistling a tune and twirling his index finger pointedly at his ear to point out the lunatic in front of him. Arthur grimaced and turned away; getting irritated further. "If you won't quit your childish plays I won't let you out!" He finally replied, closing his eyes tightly while he heard the ghost gasp with agony and surprise.

The whole room suddenly got silenced, and at first, the Briton thought he had gotten the American to finally shut up. But upon turning around, he found the room quite empty and his heart started to batter in quick intervals.

"A-Alfred?" He murmured with a chocked tone as he stared bewildered at the empty space in front of him. He searched throughout the dining room, hoping to find one piece of the ghost's body lying _somewhere_, but failed in the end.

As minutes passed his heart started to sink. Realizing he may have made the ghost run away from him due to a stupid outburst. "That stupid git! He better not have run off!" He grumbled to himself while looking around his apartment and flipping multiple items around to try and find his ghost companion. His heart was severely aching, too frightened to have made the poor American flee from him.

"A-Alfred?!" His voice grew frantic as he traveled through a small hallway that led to his kitchen from the dining room. It was the last place to search. His heart stopped as he realized that the ghost was not there. "A-Alfred, please? Come on! I'm sorry! Come out, will you?" The Briton pleaded as he punched his wall with frustration.

The stupid American. Always dramatizing things and making his life more hectic! He knew he shouldn't have allowed that stray ghost into his house! He just _knew_ it!

Slumping down in the corner of his kitchen he let out a sniff. He _wasn't_ that bad of a person was he? Or was he so awful that he could make even a supernatural being run away in tears? His heart sunk just after thinking so pessimistically.

"_What's wrong, Arthur?" _A voice replied solemnly and a new zodiac took form of a bull.

Arthur lifted his head to find Vrsabha in front of him, staring gently into his green eyes like a mother would to her child. The Briton stopped sniffing as he quickly brushed his forming tears away with the edge of his sleeve. The zodiac continued to stare at him with his lazy stare, but a penetrating sense of seriousness was somewhere in the dull shades of his eyes.

Vrsabha was a calm zodiac. He was a mutable Earth Sign, so that was why it explained his natural laid-back mood. The Bull Zodiac was a kind creature who took time to understand everything despite the lack of time there even was. He was one of the only zodiacs that Arthur confided his feelings too other than Makara of course.

"I-I can't find him!" The Briton grumbled in defeat while moving his choppy bangs away from his emerald eyes. A small drop of tears were still at the corner of his eyes as he quivered his lips like a child losing his toy. The bull just stared at him quizzically while turning around and walking away; probably hearing something in the distance. "Don't bother, he probably ran somewhere underneath or something. Away from me at least!" The Briton cried miserably; however, the Bull continued to ignore him.

"_If you just become patient enough, I'm sure you would have easily found him." _Replied Vrsabha with a composed voice. He was back in the living room, standing in front of the place Alfred had last been seen. _"It's all like a circle. If you get angry, you'll only lose your way." _He whispered while smiling and softly and gently disappearing from Arthur's view.

Vrsabha always liked doing that. Appearing after something bad happened and disappearing after doing something good. Arthur remembered quite well that when he was a child and he had just been bullied by either Antonio or Francis, Vrsabha would be the first one to come to him in his aid to relax him after a fit.

The Zodiac always helped him in the end, and he could only silently thank him in fear of the public's view.

After the zodiac disappeared Arthur could hear a soft sniffling in the same place where Alfred had left. It took Arthur quite a while to remember Alfred's sudden invisibility ability, and he quickly found rage re-entering his heart.

"You stupid, bloody fool!" He shouted while pointing at the entrance where Alfred supposedly laid. "Why do you have to _do_ that?" Exclaimed the Briton as he got on his knees and crawled towards the area where he had heard the sniffling.

Alfred was there, he could hear the small whining coming from the man's pouting lips. He didn't understand _why_ he couldn't see the ghost despite his invisibility skill, and found it quite annoying to not see a supernatural thing for once.

"You're so mean!" The American whined childishly while reappearing with his blue eyes brimmed with decorative tears. His face had flushed a pale pink due to his translucent color and he was crossing his arms and huddling his knees together in an old fashion. "All I wanted was for you to have fun." He grumbled and looked away while muttering more rude remarks about the Briton.

As if he could _have_ fun around. Especially with this town.

"Alright, Alright." The Briton grumbled as he heaved the solidified ghost upwards and pulled him to his feet. It was pretty easy carrying a ghost he mused once Alfred wiped his own tears away and jerked his attention towards something else to make him stop crying whenever he saw Arthur.

"Fine, let's go out now, alright?" Arthur asked bemused as he noticed the American's sudden quietness.

"You'll have to treat me, though." The ghost grumbled as he opened the door with a feigned smile to let Arthur out first.

These words seemed to baffle the Briton as he opened the umbrella to let the ghost outside with him. _Treat him? How? _His thoughts wandered as he eyed the American's back, gazing at the jacket he wore that had an embedded "50" on it in silvery tracing.

As they traveled down towards the stairs, he was glad to have found that no one had come out yet despite it being noon. His heart almost raced once he heard a click of a door opening, and he was about to shut his umbrella until realizing that Alfred needed the umbrella for his existence.

_Bleeding git._

Turning around a corner and reaching the local street, he found much eyes peering at him as if he had reached a new level of insanity. Of course, it **was** strange for him to be carrying an umbrella in the middle of a perfectly good day that barely reached 18 degrees Celsius, but that didn't mean all those scorn looks coming his way was uncomfortable.

"Are you alright there, Artie?" The voice of Alfred snapped him into realization as he stopped in front of a traffic light that signified when pedestrians could walk or not in an intersection. "You seem out of it." The ghost replied looking a tad bit concerned as he touched his cold palm against the Briton's heating face.

Alfred's touch wasn't warm at all. In fact it was like ice that made his spine shrivel up in discomfiture. He hadn't expected for a ghost to feel so cool, but he never actually thought of touching one at all, before.

"Y-Yes, I'm perfectly fine." He whispered through gritting teeth as new pair of eyes gazed at him with a mocking stare.

Alfred could sense his alertness and turned his head around to find the cause of the Briton's anxiety. He saw almost all the people they passed staring at Arthur with immense amusement, and he could fully understand why the Briton was always so cynical and introverted. It made his heart wallow in despair noticing all those eyes gazing at Arthur with no signs of sympathy or compassion.

"Hey, it's okay." Alfred replied softly as he stared at the man beside him who was trying his best to compose his calm nature, but his figure was shaking nevertheless. His shaking was either from anger or sadness, Alfred couldn't tell though.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Kirkland." A voice laughed. It was a sharp, penetrating voice that caused Arthur's confident mantra to whither as he turned slightly around to find a white-haired man with crimson pools gazing at him with a smirk.

"If it isn't Gilbert Weillschmidt." The Briton replied with a strong sarcasm all the while rolling his eyes.

The green light suddenly came on, and he (along with Alfred) silently began to walk across the street with quiet irritation surrounding the both of them. However, their escape was not really beneficial as they met up with a smug Gilbert who was tailgating them.

"Oh come on! Arthur, why do you have to so cruel?" The Albino grumbled as he slung his arm around the Briton's neck in an all too friendly manner.

This made Alfred startled, but Arthur continued walking with impatience as he tried to shrug the git's hands off of him.

"Will you please keep your hands to _yourself!_" The Briton muttered while adjusting his umbrella to a straight angle and keeping mind that Alfred was still next to him. He had almost allowed a sliver of light to flow Alfred's way, but thanks to his quick realization he had managed to not harm the American who was quivering with profound fear.

It would have amused Arthur to no ends if it were not for Gilbert who was also trying to catch his attention through the same whining antiques as the ghost.

"Why do you have to carry an umbrella? You know how weird you are?" The white-haired man asked as he continued to walk alongside Arthur with enjoyment. "I mean, you're already more pale than me, what else do you want to accomplish?" The Prussian asked as he let out a familiar pout very much similar to Alfred's.

Arthur couldn't help but ask himself if those two idiots were even related.

Gilbert Weillschmidt was not one of Arthur's enemies, thank god. He was more of an annoying neighbor who always wanted to hang out with the outcasts, much to Arthur's chagrin.

The said Prussian loved involving himself in things he shouldn't be in. For example, during their kindergarten years the Prussian loved to hang around with the "lunatic" Arthur just to gain fame, and honestly believed they were friends throughout their lifetime. And today was no different from the other days where Gilbert wanted to nose into his life in unexpected moments.

"So, what's with the umbrella anyways?" The idiot asked as he played around with the sturdy fabric of the black holder. Arthur had to scold him while whacking his hand away from the thing.

"I need it to be perfectly straight, thank you very much!" Snapped the Briton as he peered at the American who continued to gaze at him uneasily. Gilbert was on the other side complaining while bantering how awfully "stupid it was to hide yourself under an umbrella during the middle of summer," but Arthur ignored him anyways.

Alfred was unusually silent today.

"You alright?" Replied the Briton who stared worriedly at the American who's face was pale and very much frightened than before.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Alfred managed to choke out as he held onto the umbrella with his own solidifying power; and all the more ignoring the Prussian who was complaining at Arthur, asking him "why do you always have to ignore me?"

The three than halted in front of Arthur's favorite tea shop, and the Briton was ready to open the door until a fit of complaints ensued.

And it did not belong to the bleeding Prussian.

It was Alfred.

Honestly, even if Alfred was naturally loud; Arthur preferred the more silent American like he was previous seconds ago. He just couldn't stand the American's whines, and he just wanted to punch the bleeding ghost right in front of everyone.

But what would that do, then?

He'd look like a fool that's what would have happened.

So there he was, standing in front of the tea store (his only peace) while staring angrily at an American who was stomping his feet like a brat who didn't get the toy he wanted, and looking insanely stupid to the Prussian who gazed at him nervously.

"What's the glaring for?" Gilbert muttered nervously as he stared at Arthur's piercing emerald eyes.

"**What do you want Alfred?" **Arthur ignored Gilbert, basically pushing him to the side while staring at the American with intense green eyes.

Umbrella hovering over both of them he stared at the empty space; which was (in only his eyes) occupied by Alfred. Gilbert just stared unfazed as if it was another of _those_ days.

"I said you had to treat me." The American solidified while holding his umbrella with great force. "And I don't like tea." He spat while dragging the Briton across the street towards the god awful Coffee Shop.


	4. Friendship or Not?

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Four: **Friendship or Not?

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**Author's Notes: **Going to college in two days! I am going to cry so much for my first week of unfamiliarity. _Read & Review please_? Furthermore, the stupid bookstore emailed me and told me they ran out of stock on some of my books - and will notify me later on. School is starting in 5 days - what is going on with them?

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The least area Arthur _ever _wanted to visit besides his enemies' own home was the Coffee Shop. First of all he hated the beverage itself, and second of all it was one of the most popular sites in town - meaning that he would have to see so many people who disapproved of him all at once.

He tried desperately hard to unhook Alfred's tight grasp, but the ghost's strength was quite incredible; leaving him hopeless to say the least. He was literally quaking in fear as the ghost dragged him in front of the shop while bearing a wide grin as he finally let go of the Briton.

"I want a caramel latte." He replied all of a sudden while staring at the Briton with puppy, pleading eyes.

Arthur stared bewildered at the request.

"Since when could ghosts even _eat?_" Spat the skeptical man while crossing his arms and tapping his foot; testing the youth with hard-glossed eyes. Honestly, he had never heard of ghosts ever getting hungry! Although in the Latin myths there were such things as hungry ghosts who would continue to wail for blood and beans until they received their requested things, but Arthur doubted Alfred was a Hungry Ghost. And yet, Alfred was quite a mystery to him still.

"I can't explain it!" Defended the American while furrowing his brows in impatience. "I get hungry a lot! So I guess even in death my hunger came over with me!" His response was quite stupid, Arthur had to muse, as a dry frown fell on his face.

"_That's _not good enough." He quipped while crossing his arms and staring away from the whining brat. Alfred was such a child as he clasped his hands and nearly begged for him on his knees; if he could kneel on the floor that is ,without tripping the passersby. Arthur continued to ignore the American while keeping a close eye on the people staring at him with strange looks.

So far, so good. Hardly anyone staring at him were any of the enemies he dreaded the most.

"But you **owe** me~," Alfred huffed and got back on his feet while crossing his arms as well. Arthur continued to stare at him with empty green eyes while giving a penetrating glare at the ghost; unbeknownst to him the disbelieving stares he was getting from a person behind Alfred in the window display.

"I don't owe you any of the sort!" Arthur growled as he attempted to grab Alfred's hand and push him back under the umbrella with him and into the Tea Shop which was begging for

him to enter.

"But I'm going to starve!" Alfred concluded his sentence while disappearing.

The bloody git was being an idiot however and grew as thin as air again with an angry sigh. Arthur couldn't take a hold on the stupid American and stared bewildered at the empty space in front of him. _Damn bloody fool_.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" Gilbert replied; managing to catch up to the Briton while clasping his pallid hands onto the edge of his coat. The Briton grunted while glaring at the empty space; knowing full well Alfred was still there.

"Get. Under. The. Umbrella." He managed to reply through gritted teeth as the empty space became more silent until a moan of displeasure spilled from nowhere, but the space in front of him. "Alfred, this instant!" He shouted through impatience and Gilbert and the other passersby had to stare at him for a moment.

"I'm not going under that umbrella till I get my caramel latte." Was the firm voice coming from the ghost somewhere around him. "I want one! I want one!" He kept replying, and Arthur, through defeat, decided to get it over with.

"Damn brat." He replied; opening the door while the chimes of a golden bell rung to notify the host of his presence. Alfred followed along with happiness; re-solidifying while nearly, almost skipping with anticipation.

The atmosphere was dark as soon as he got in. Really chill and cool which made his spine shiver from all the quiet stares traveling towards him, and only him. Alfred stood beside him; however, giving him a boost of confidence as the young ghost looked cheerful; happily shrugging off all the rude stares (however it wasn't directed at him, of course).

The cashier gazed at Arthur with a rather mocking stare. Brown, hazelnut eyes gazed at him childishly while a smirk traced the young man's lips. "What would you like, sir?" His voice remarked funnily while he stared at the Briton with a lingering amusement washed over his pink face.

Alfred gazed at the teenager behind the desk with a little resentment; knowing full well the boy was making fun of Arthur through his expressions. The ghost let out a sigh as he held onto Arthur's sleeve; making the Briton jump in a strange alertness. "Get me a coffee if you want to leaved soon." The American murmured softly as he noticed the growing stares forming from the deck of tables and seats behind them.

This statement; however, made the Briton more adamant and Arthur nearly stomped his foot with protest. "We'll have a Caramel Latte please." He accidentally sputtered causing an outburst of laughter. "I mean. I will." He muttered with downcast eyes.

The teenager muffled his laugh while speaking in his native language to a young lad in the kitchen. The child appeared to have let out a small smile while making the drink in a fit of flurry. The latte was done in a couple of minutes; record time to Alfred who's stomach was already losing his appetite after seeing Arthur so saddened.

"Here you go." The cashier muttered as Arthur began to pay him while holding onto the cool drink in his other hand. Alfred gazed at the tired Briton; who seemed as if he was going to cry, but the Briton had a knack of hiding things from what Alfred could tell.

"Thank you." Uttered the other man with a slight dip of sarcasm as he began to walk outside where Prussia was awaiting him with a strange eagerness.

"SO! First time in the Coffee shop I see?" The Prussian smirked as he took the latte out of Arthur's hands and began to take a helpful swallow of the sweet drink. His face nearly twisted finding it so sweet; and he handed it over back to the Briton who gazed at him with dull shaded eyes.

"Serves you right." Muttered Arthur who watched Gilbert nearly gag, and took the drink and smelled the intense incense coming from the sugary beverage. He stuck a tongue in disgust as he secretly pushed it to where Alfred was; and who the latter was taking huge gulps of ecstasy.

Alfred wanted badly to take the beverage into his own hands; but Arthur was having an iron grip on the drink as he pointedly stared at the Prussian following them. The ghost huffed, wanting to scare the fool away; but somehow, deep inside he thought Gilbert may be some sort of link to help Arthur in a way; if he wasn't there to help him. Of course Alfred would always be there; but maybe not for physical support just yet.

"You're so cruel Artie, why do you always have to be like that?" Gilbert grumbled as he put his hands behind the back of his head while walking leisurely next to the Briton. The sandy locked man grimaced as he tried to ignore the albino and the ghost next to him. "It's no wonder why people don't like you." Finalized the Prussian as he walked pass him towards a different street; signifying his end of the day.

The last the two saw of him; he waved with a big, flashing grin.

"Thank god, he's gone." Arthur replied as they walked throughout the street shops under the huge, raven umbrella. People were getting used to his strange style as they passed by him without a note of incredibility or disgust. His heart was fluttering after the people grew used to him.

"You okay?" Alfred finally managed to reply as he took the last sip of the drink Arthur held tightly in his hands. The Briton stared absentmindedly at the sidewalk they were walking on while pondering on careful words.

"It's not as bad as most days…" His gentle voice traveled with a slight edge of remorse. Alfred gazed at him with confused, blue eyes. "Some times they won't stop ignoring me." He ended his sentence with a croaking sound while matting possible tears from his eyes with his hands. They continued walking; however.

A strange guilt pounded somewhere inside of Alfred as he trudged along with the quiet Briton. They decided to end the day with the tea shop that Arthur favored; and with a pleasant conversation that seemed to enthrall Arthur with much delight.

"So, who's Makara anyways?" Alfred leaned in from the other side of the booth as he let out a pleasant smile across his translucent face. Arthur's eyes shone with a hidden fancy as he clasped his small hands onto the teacup on the threaded coaster. Alfred could see the excitement and fondness written all over the Briton's heartwarming expression.

"He's one of my best-friends!" The Briton replied clearly without any hesitation as sparkles started forming in the corner of his eyes. His face grew rosy as he decided to explain.

"He's a Capricorn; and no - a Capricorn is not a form of a Unicorn you daft fool." He automatically replied as he chanted about how wonderful the zodiac was; and how cuddly and soft, and beautiful the creature was.

Alfred nodded without listening as he continued to stare into the Briton's happy eyes. It was how strange they were that lured him in as he nodded absentmindedly with curious eyes.

"Are you listening?" The Englishman scoffed as he took a sip of his tea and gazed at the ghost who was nodding with a dreamy smile cascaded onto his face. "Alright then." He took another sip as his eyes gazed at the ghost who had stopped his head boggling. "What's the difference between a Capricorn and a Unicorn?" He asked, green eyes slanting with furrowing brows.

Alfred was taken a back.

"Well-uh…" He stuttered as he met the hard-gaze from the Briton. "It's simple!" He announced foolishly while beating his chest with pride. "A unicorn is a horse with one horn in the middle of his forehead and…" A vein was growing on the side of Arthur's head. "…And a Capricorn is like….a horse with two horns?"

The desk nearly flipped over, but thanks to Arthur's gentlemanly ways he refrained from tossing the (attached) booth and only seemed to have been scratching at the edge with a frighteningly strange strength.

"You sodding git!" He scathed while glaring at the ghost before him.

He wanted badly to scold the ghost; however Wang and his siblings were already reacting to his strange behavior with wide; saucer-shape eyes.

He _needed_ to look sane; just for these people at least. He couldn't bare any more awkward stares from people who actually somewhat accepted him. His blushing face was reddening more as Alfred let out a small, surprised laugh.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." The American repeated while trying to brush away his laughter. He looked strangely appealing to Arthur; the way he laughed. It was strange. The American's method in laughing wasn't really an outburst; first of all it was the corner of his lips which would twitch ever so slightly; and then a small pleasing breath. After that; the American would smile wider and then softly chuckle.

It made him feel strange.

_Damn ghost_.

"Ano…it's becoming late, Kirkland-san." Kiku piped up from behind the counter while shining up the mahogany desk with a small wad of wood polish. His brown eyes lingered onto the Briton's emerald as he bit his lower lip, uncomfortable with any rude words. "So…since our store is about to close…" He whispered with a frail voice in embarrassment, not wanting to sound so cruel towards the Briton.

"O-Oh of course!" Arthur stated with realization as he got up while handing his empty cup to the counter with a small, apologizing grin. "I'm so sorry! I lost track!" He sputtered turning beat red, unnoticeable to Alfred who was hovering near him.

"No, it's fine." The Japanese vendor smiled as he touched Arthur's fingers gracefully to remove the cup out of his hands. Arthur turned even more red, which again, went unnoticed to Alfred who seemed slightly upset.

"Well then, see you again!" Arthur stuttered as he nearly tripped on his way to the exit. Alfred follow, unimpressed, as he remained silent.

"So you like him or something?" Alfred asked as he gazed at the Briton who seemed to still not have gotten over with Kiku's gentle touch.

"W-What? Of course not!" The Briton denied; making Alfred chuckle further as he held onto the Briton's shoulder with humor.

Alfred was dense though; but a light shade of scarlet bloomed on the Briton's cheeks as he made contact with the young man.

"Whatever you say." The American chided while lightly nudging the Briton with his elbow.

It was getting late - real late. The crescent moon was now in plain sight on the midnight blue sky and Alfred and Arthur were still walking through the streets.

The nightlights haven't gotten on yet; partly because the small town didn't even bother with lightening them up; but Arthur chose to brush the nagging idea in his mind. He felt they were being followed for some reason, but Alfred was there. No fear. No fear.

"You're tense all of a sudden." The ghost remarked as they passed a dim light emitted from a television screen from inside a small house. Alfred was tempted to see what was going on in there, but Arthur pulled him closer to him feeling insecure without the supernatural creature.

"I feel like someone's following us." The Briton finally replied fearfully as he held onto the ghost's sleeve while shaking. He had never been this scared in his life; it was like he knew what was going to happen next.

Actually he did, often some queers with bats would be running to him, but he was always near the premises of his own home - he had never stayed this late at night for a long time though.

"Who?" Alfred replied dangerously as he gazed at every direction with a defiant glare. The Briton wanted him to continue on with their walk; only in a more hurried pace as he felt stares glaring at him with penetrating eyes.

"C-Come along now, we're almost there!" The Briton scoffed tugging the other more roughly on the collar. Alfred hovered along with the Englishman; a slight worry washing all over his blue eyes.

"Arthur, hold on for a moment, alright?" He stopped in a brisk halt as he gazed at the fearful Briton. "It's fine. I'm here, right?" He murmured gently while holding the Englishman's hand with reassurance. "It's fine. I'm here, right?" He repeated and stared at the shaking emerald eyes.

"A-Alfred…."

Arthur seemed to have calmed down a bit as he held tightly onto Alfred's cold hands. A small smile graced his lips as he stared into those translucent blue.

All of a sudden a strange screech rang; and both of them gazed at one another with a strange look of surprise.

A group of at least three were gliding towards Arthur under strange painted masks and weirdly designed black, rubber jumpsuits. They would have looked amusing to the pair if they weren't carrying silver aluminum bats in their hands.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur~" Their voices chimed in unison as they skated around the Briton who looked so scared. So heartbreakingly scared. "Why the scared look?" One stopped in the circle and peered through his mask with a hearty laugh. "We're only humans!" He joked while taking one step towards the quaking Englishman.

Alfred stared at the man before the fragile Briton with intense anger. He didn't know what to feel, besides the fury growing within him as the stranger stepped even closer to his friend.

It was all of a sudden where he solidified and knocked the living daylights out of all three in a heartbeat.

He didn't know how; but he was glad to see them groaning while holding their faces in agony. Arthur was still shocked as he slumped on the floor with quivering lips.

"It's alright." Alfred replied with a strange, menacing smile. "I'm here, aren't I?"


	5. Moonlight, Newspapers, Tea and Pie

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Five: **Moonlight, Newspapers, Tea and Pie!

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**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the lack of updates, I just moved into my dorm and my roommate is really nice. Her family is so kind to me and have offered me everything that I would have never thought of a family doing for a stranger! Strangely during our first meeting I, being shy, felt very much like a baffled Japan who was being interrogated and asked by an overenthusiastic America. I felt so happy to have met my roommate! Unfortunately; she's not a manga/anime fan. Yet. Hopefully I'll be able to express myself more, but I have such a dark heart, I can barely laugh or show a lot of emotion. Did anyone catch the _Rurouni Kenshin _reference there?

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They had arrived back in the shabby apartment soon after the defeat of the three masked strangers. Alfred had taken liberty to shut himself up as Arthur calmed himself down from what seemed like an almost near-death situation if Alfred wasn't there to have helped him. The Briton's breath was ragged and quick-paced as he sat down while unbuttoning his tight collar and loosening his tie. Honestly, he never really had a problem like that before in all his time in the town.

After what had seemed like a good few minutes, Alfred had come back from the kitchen where he had supposedly made lemonade to cool off his friend's fading anxiety. Arthur took it graciously while taking a helpful swallow of the sugary treat. "Are you alright, now?" The ghost inquired while absentmindedly grazing his hands against the Briton's wet locks. Arthur gently nodded as he stared at the half-empty glass, holding it tightly with shaking hands.

"…Bloody wankers." The disheveled man muttered under his breath as Alfred decided to leave the Briton to himself for the time being.

Alfred on the other hand, despite Arthur's calm demeanor, was a bit furious, upset and confused as to why three men in unfashionable clothing would suddenly come up and try to harm the poor Brit.

He didn't get why people could be so narrow-minded on such an ability such as being able to see the supernatural. He knew how crazy it would seem, and very illogical but…honestly, people these days! Hell, where he came from Alfred would certainly think that Arthur would suddenly become some sort of famous celebrity or icon or something, but _not_ a person labeled as queer or anything of _that _sort! He ran his fingers through his translucent tresses as he gazed uncomfortably at the Briton who had grown unusually silent.

The pitiable man was still shaking rather excessively and holding onto the now empty glass; poor soul, he looked almost heartbroken to have his own townspeople go after him! Alfred had just to frown while staring at the traumatized figure, now under a huge wool blanket.

In a way it made him even sadder.

To just see anyone so fragile and depressed, to Alfred, wasn't amusing at all. This type of person was a person in need of serious help!

And who was he to not help out a soul in need, anyways?

A slight pain of guilt rose amongst his chest as he touched the surface of his cold flesh with unease. And here he was thinking Arthur was some sort of minion for evil…

How stupid was he, anyways?

Rising his head; the ghost decided what must be done, _must_ be done. He then found himself traveling towards the Briton with a look of enlightened dignity as he peered down at the pink faced Briton.

"W-What?" The green eyed man asked as he tugged the woolen sheet tighter around his thin frame. Alfred smiled at this; at least Arthur was still the same despite the town's bullying frenzy!

"I, Alfred _F. Jones_, will become your hero!" He announced with chest puffing out and an extremely proud smile fitting onto his shapely face. Arthur blinked twice, once with bewilderment, and the second time with a sort of calm cheerfulness.

"Thank you."

The whole night would have become more favorable for the two if Arthur hadn't asked how Alfred remembered his middle initial and last name out of the blue.

"I-I don't know?" Alfred replied disbelieved as well while tapping his ghostly feet on the wooden carpeting. Honestly, how did Arthur even bother to catch a random moment out of him? He didn't mean it, he just said it out of the blue. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I'm dead, remember?" He scoffed. As if a last name would be important for a ghost these days.

Arthur nodded his head absentmindedly while playing with a loose string amongst his bed sheet. "But, you lost your memories so…it could help if we actually tried searching you up." He bit his lower lip in curiosity.

The ghost however, was not curious at all. He was a bit pained to not know his past or anything of that sort; but what will that bring him if he ever found the truth? Nothing. That's what would come to light if he uncovered this past.

"I know a good library of sorts that keeps records of the families living in this town." Arthur continued on as he gazed at Alfred who seemed a bit to be avoiding the whole thing. "Don't you want to learn your past?" The Brit asked as he gazed at Alfred with intense, green eyes.

Those green eyes would ruin him, Alfred thought as he crossed his arms while hovering parallel to the ceiling.

"The past is the past." He murmured with an edgy voice. His blue eyes seemed to shimmer some resistance to Arthur's fallen frown as the two clashed eyes with one another. "Besides, what will it bring me once I know who my family was and stuff? It's not like I can do anything for them afterwards." He responded bringing back an awkward grin as he scratched the back of his blonde head. Arthur seemed to have taken note on his logic as he slightly nodded with disappointing eyes.

The ghost had absolutely no more words left to say as he departed quite regretfully from the Briton gazing after him. Arthur had never seen a more serious Alfred before, so upon realizing that the ghost indeed had feelings of remorse; only made him slightly more depressed.

Grasping the thin bed sheets covering up his frame; he clutched tightly onto them while pulling the covers over his head. He wanted to see absolutely nothing! Just pure black, so he could gain some peace in a tranquil surrounding.

Meanwhile Alfred didn't know why he had snapped at the Briton all of a sudden. He was unsure as to why a sudden pit of rage began to form in the depths of his stomach; and yet, that was the only justifiable emotion he could think of.

The young blonde clung onto his belly as he gazed at it with a pained expression. It was warmer than the other parts of his cold presence, but why? A tight frown formed on his face as he slightly calmed himself down as he delved onto the sofa; gazing wide-eyed at the ceiling.

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The next morning, Arthur had groggily woken up to a more-than awake Alfred. The ghost was practically hovering above him, parallel from the ceiling; as the usual grin toppled onto his face.

"Morning!" Chimed the spirit as he winked while furiously waving his hands to suggest a welcome. The Briton groaned as he tried to toss the sheets back onto him and catch a few other hours of sleep; but the ghost wouldn't let him have it.

"Oh, come on, Arthur!" Whined the American as he tugged onto his green sheets with greater force. The Briton grumbled a few incoherent words after the ghost had pulled the whole comforter out from the bed with one quick tug.

"Let me sleep, you stupid twat."

"But, you can't just do that to me!" Smiled the spirit as he started folding the sheets and placing them on the edge of the bed with the same grin hanging on his face.

"And why the hell can't I?" Spat Arthur with venom in his tone.

"…You know how lonely it is at night for me?" Fumed the ghost back, while crossing his arms in protest.

"Oh, I have _know _clue." Arthur rolled his eyes in sarcasm while gazing at the American with a sour frown engraved onto his face. Alfred let out a couple of blinks while letting out a quiet voice.

"…Ghosts can't sleep, I hope you know that." He gently responded with pleading blue eyes. "Night time is like death all over again." The American sighed as he solidified while taking Arthur's hand and shoving him off of his own bed.

Was the night that terrible for spirits? Arthur always thought the ghosts loved the night because it was the only time they usually came to play…

So why was Alfred so different?

He looked puzzled as he stood on his two legs; gazing into the blue translucent gaze of the supernatural human.

"What have you been doing for the past few days then?" He seethed in realization. What _would_ Alfred do when Arthur was asleep?

A sudden blush crept his face which did not go unknown to the American with an amused smirk.

"Staring." He replied rather haughtily as he smoothed his golden, transparent hair with a cocky smile covering most of his lower jaw. Arthur gazed at him, incredulous, about his behavior.

"Staring at what, you bloody pervert?" The Englishman grumbled in aggravation as he furrowed his brows with extreme embarrassment. The American laughed while placing his hands over Arthur's shoulders in a calm, friendly manner. The Briton seemed skeptical with his touch and slightly moved away; not wanting to feel the awkward coolness of the ghost's solidified flesh.

"Don't worry Arthur it wasn't anything perverted." Replied the blonde with a widening grin. Arthur glared at him while crossing his arms in speculation.

"Then what the hell were you staring at?" He blurted out with a scarlet face, ready to explode further on with anger.

"Relax." Alfred sensed the growing fury as he smiled gently at the Briton.

Alfred's eyes had never seemed so soft and caring before, Arthur was amazed at how beautiful the man could be.

He shook his head in complete disgust with himself. What was he thinking?

"I was looking at the moon."

Arthur had never expected Alfred to have said the latter as he stared bewildered at the American's honest response.

"I don't know, the moon is the only thing beautiful and _alive_ to me when it's night." He muttered sheepishly while scratching the back of his head in a bashful ignorance. Arthur continued to gaze at the blonde with a new light. His mouth hung with admiration at the poetic sentence flowing from the idiot's mouth.

"Y-You are completely daft." The Briton concluded their conversation with an equally heated face. Alfred bit his lower lip while laughing gently and touching Arthur's shoulder one more time.

"You rather let me look at you in the night?" He teased while skipping, or pouncing, off outside while holding the umbrella.

Arthur only followed after with a bashful sigh.

**----------------------------------------------**

Another day at the town turned a bit more fruitful than the last time they had went; which almost nearly ended in Arthur's death had Alfred not been there to protect him.

The whole town spread news like a firecracker in the night air, and so everyone basically knew of the three strangers who attempted to take Arthur Kirkland's life. With that said, people gazed at him with a newfound admiration or either a skeptical and dubious glare. Some children stared at him while spreading rumors about his magical abilities.

"Just let it all go." Alfred replied smoothly as they passed by a few neighbors who started whispering in low tones of Arthur's devilish powers and his ability to _blind_ people for his retribution. Arthur shook his head, disbelieving every word.

It turned out that in the newspaper the three men who tried to mercilessly hack him to death with metal bats grew blind from an "unknown light."

That "unknown light" was supposedly Alfred, but Arthur closed his eyes at that time and only found the men groaning on the floor with agonizing moans, thereafter.

"…Alfred what did you-"

The American stared at him with silent pleading eyes as if he wanted Arthur to keep silent of the whole thing. "It's all over isn't it?" The American asked as he touched the soft, warm fingertips of the Briton who slightly turned pink at the contact. "I can't even explain myself, though, if you want a further, detailed answer." He responded with a disheveled sigh.

The newspaper had Arthur all over on the front page with huge headlines in excessively bolded characters. They had taken a random shot of him during his walk out in the park long ago; and so the picture was a little outdated with him and his fowl expressions before Alfred had ever came into his life.

It was quite embarrassing as he read about the "devil miracle" that had happened during midnight with an unlikely man and a dangerous group. Alfred only whistled in acknowledgement as he peered down the paper beside him while he took a sip of his tea in the Tea Shop.

Kiku was out today; much to Arthur's chagrin, but he still had a pleasant welcome from Wang and Im Young.

The owner, Wang, was making a deliciously appetizing French Silk pie this time and decorating it as much as possible while the little Im Young gazed at with wonder at the pastry. "Im Young, why don't you go and take care of Kiku instead of doing nothing?" The Chinese manager asked as he finished the last piece of whip cream onto the chocolate, silvery pie.

Alfred stared hungrily at the thing; but goodness gracious did the chef put it up for so much money for one slice. Honestly, $9 for _one_ slice? That was a rip-off! …Unless it was absolutely delicious that was.

"Arthur, I'm starving." Alfred reminded Arthur of his strange ghostly hunger as he pointed at the pie with drool ready to form from his deprived face. The Briton grunted; but couldn't help buy the source of food after reminding himself the last time he refused Alfred any ration or sweets.

"Very well, you useless thing." Seethed the Briton as he got up and paid $9for the stinking, overly sweet pastry. Alfred took it appreciatively as he placed the porcelain plate onto the other side of the table.

Wang and Im Young continued to gaze at the strange behavior Arthur was displaying and were thoroughly confused as to why the Briton wasn't eating it?

"Aren't you going to eat it, aru?" Asked the disappointed man while leaning against the counter with saddening brows. Im Young took a seat next to his brother; pouting as he gazed at the Briton who seem disinterested in the sweet.

"You should eat it! Brother took _all_ day to make that food!" Quipped the Korean childishly. The little boy was so cute as he crossed his arms with his long sleeves; and pounding it hard against the counter nearly shaking it up.

Wang had to stop the child and order him to do dishes as he stared at the Briton with an interest.

"Ah- well, I was just about to finish the paper before eating." Arthur defended himself with a careful thought as he let out a sheepish smile and pulled the pie into his direction.

Alfred on the other hand was a little indignant to let go of the dessert so he had (because of his stubbornness) pulled it back into his direction with an awful force. The American then shoved the whole slice into his mouth while chewing noisily and sticking his tongue in complete victory towards the baffled Englishman.

Both Wang and Im Young stared at the pie being devoured by nothing.

"W-What just happened, aru?!" The chef shouted in disbelief as he rubbed his eyes with distraught and complete amazement. Im Young also voiced out his thoughts as he kept eyeing Arthur with suspicion and wonder.

"N-Nothing!" Arthur quipped, turning bashfully red as he gazed at the two with watering eyes. Stupid Alfred, blowing his cover!

"Just now, your pie was eaten by thin air!" Wang responded again, clarifying his thoughts as he recalculated the event that had happened nearly 30 seconds ago. Im Young nodded his small head as he hobbled towards Arthur with a confident face.

"I saw it too, Mr. Kirkwand." The boy muttered with his cute voice as he poked the thin air in front of him hoping to feel at least some strange force his way. "He ate the whole slice!" He chimed while hopping about on the tiles and cocking his head in wonder.

Arthur glared at a sheepish, ghostly Alfred while averting his eyes back to Im Young and Wang's attention. "I don't know what you mean." He replied with a sarcastic astonishment. "I ate the whole thing." He replied with a feigned voice. Alfred couldn't help but smile.

"No, my eyes can not be easily fooled!" Wang retorted back with a seething voice. "What the hell happened, aru?" The man grumbled with protest and demanded for the full detail. "Was it your magic, aru?"

Arthur did not know what to say.

"Why don't you just tell him that your unicorn friend or whatever loves his pastries?" Retorted Alfred absentmindedly as he gulped down the last bit of whip cream from his lips. Arthur gazed back at the American with a horrid stare before opening his mouth in protest. "Come on, it won't hurt to be a little insane with the details these days." Shrugged the American as he urged the Briton to carry on with the conversation in hand.

"M-My Unicorn friend, E-Epsilon likes your food." Arthur retorted blandly, finding himself in complete shame.

He was going to kill Alfred. Somehow. He didn't care if he was already dead!


	6. Reconciliation and the Magic of Happines

Beyond Our Sight

**By **_**Ryukansen**_

**Chapter Six: **Reconciliation and the Magic of Happiness

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**Author's Notes: **This took me forever; I was trying to find a bridge for the next chapter. So there I have it, I found it! _Read and Review_ like always.

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Arthur had left the tea shop in a flurry without answering any of Wang's questions. He was so embarrassed and betrayed to even think as he slammed the door shut in front of Alfred's face; shouting at him to leave him alone.

Alfred could be so idiotic sometimes; but not _this_ idiotic. How could the dumb ghost eat the whole slice in front of the mortals? It was completely outrageous with what the American had done; that he was rendered speechless. Utterly speechless.

"Aw, Arthur - I said I was sorry." The ghost murmured apologetically while battering his eyelashes with a small frown mustering up on his complexion. The Briton wouldn't let him have it as he covered himself with his sheets and started ranting profanities at the young American. The ghost sighed; and without further hesitation stepped through the door easily. "Come on, Arthur." He traveled across the rooms to meet up with the bundled figure on top of the huge bed.

Arthur looked so frail covered in a fragile sheet. Alfred gazed at the Briton who's lips were quivering. He was crying. Alfred sighed in dismay as he sat next to the man, causing a dip in the bed to form. Arthur scooted farther away from the ghost with a scowl forming despite the tears dropping onto his pallid cheeks.

"You are a bloody imbecile, do you know that?" He seethed as he clutched onto the fabrics with intense hatred forming. Alfred could notice the negative energy bursting within the Briton's chest as he inhaled deeply only to shout more clearly and loud. "Do you know how much trouble you could have caused me?!" Hissed Arthur through clenched teeth. "Do you know how much _more_ the town will hate me?" He muttered while covering his quivering lips with his finger tips in distraught. "Now Wang and Im Young will think I'm a _freak_." He whispered darkly and threw the sheet back onto his head to hide.

Alfred felt sorry to have caused the trouble for Arthur; but he was saddened to hear how much Arthur thought himself as a freak. In fact, Alfred thought Arthur was more blessed despite his weirdo powers this time around. The ghost couldn't help but feel a surge of pain as he contributed to Arthur's status as a _freak_, and felt utterly ashamed of himself.

At the meantime the Briton was grimacing in the corner of his bed while muttering incoherent words. Alfred slumped his shoulders in shame as he held onto his sneakers which were dipping alongside with the bed.

"…Arthur," he began with a serious tone despite his saddened eyes. "I just. I didn't mean for you to…feel that way." He replied with an honest voice while slouching over to the covered form. The American gazed at the quaking figure as he gently took the sheet off of the Briton only to smile rather sadly. "I only wanted to help." He admitted as he brushed the tears from the crying figure with his solidified arm.

"Help? I don't need you to give me help unless I ask for it!" The Britons scoffed haughtily as he glared at the frozen blue pools gazing at him.

Arthur ran rigid as he felt Alfred's frigid flesh touch his soft cheek. Alfred's sparkling sapphire eyes dipped towards his direction as a small frown escaped his face. "You're lonely because of these people." He began as he tucked a strand of corn colored hair onto the back of his ear. "Wang and Im Young…they are the only one's who would understand you if I showed myself a little." He whispered. "You'll get more friends like this, I thought." His voice sighed with frustration as he began to fade away in awful shame.

Arthur watched him disappear while he huddled his legs closer to his chest. He hated what the dumb American did, but was it so bad for Alfred to have helped him? He shook his head in angry protest whilst he placed his forehead against his kneecaps. Why was Alfred the Ghost, so difficult to understand? That bleeding bastard was the only source of his current woes other than the townspeople themselves.

He should have known how troublesome the idiot was because if he did there was no way in hell he would have allowed Alfred with him. A frustrated sigh left from his chapped lips as he groaned in extreme anguish. Why was he so considerate to have let that being in, again? What made him so attracted to Alfred F. Jones?

All the American ever did was make him in deeper trouble.

"Alfred you idiot." He sighed while brushing away possible tears, "Why are you so difficult?" He asked himself while rolling his eyes and sniffling a little.

Alfred had walked out of plain sight and hearing distance; and now Arthur found himself quite alone to contemplate on what he was going to do next.

Should he punish Alfred for being utterly daft? Or should he accept the mistake Alfred had issued and allow him one more chance?

Arthur sighed as he knew he would lean to the latter. Alfred proved to be a helpful asset after those strange intruders came skating along with bats to bonk him on the head.

The young ghost was energetic and unaware of the great power he possessed; and Arthur was thankful to have stumbled upon the idiot. The Briton clutched hard onto the cotton sheets writhing between his frail fingers. His green orbs glisten with a penetrating concentration as he inhales while he contemplates.

So why not put that power to use? And what better example to test Alfred's abilities with real criminals? Real, awful men? Men who were immature and knew nothing but the world around them. Like those masked strangers, perhaps?

Actually, in truth he knew who those three strangers were.

They weren't like the young eleven year old bullies during his sixth year in primary school. No, the Quartet outgrew their immaturity during their early grades and most ended up like Francis; too busy to do anything about the freakish Arthur.

Unlike Francis though; the other two pursued their goals and traveled towards different territories to embark on, what the town called, a "new enlightenment."

And, Instead of pure bliss after the Quartet's demise, the three masked men took the end of the scale to the most extreme position when they disliked anything Arthur ever did.

The Briton knew full well their capabilities. He knew all along the following gazes he received whenever he left the tea shop or finished publishing a section of his mythological studies novel at the library.

Hell, he knew full well who the leader was, but it wasn't because of the hints - it was because of the predictability in all of their faulty plans.

The idiot albino would have never have guessed that Arthur already knew the position he was in. In fact, all those friendly jibes were _nothing_ to Arthur. He knew those \eyes _begging_ to add to his reputation after he had so "courageously" rid the town of an unnecessary evil.

Was Arthur really an evil? The Briton continued to ponder as he dipped his hand into a soft spot of the bed. A large imprint flattens out in the mattress making a soft indent. A sigh escapes his lips as he begins to feel even more of a failure.

"_What's wrong, Artie?" _A soft voice fluttered near his ear as he duck his head back under a pillow. He groaned, trying to get the zodiac away from him.

"Mina, please, I don't want to talk about it." The Englishman responded lazily as he closed his eyes shut to see the pure black forming from no sight. The Zodiac let out an annoyed huff and simply stood in her place as she continued to gaze at the man with worry in her violet eyes.

"_Artie, you can't be like this! How many times do I have to tell you?" _She grumbled through white teeth as she swam closer to the fool who was hiding from the rest of the world.

"Just leave me alone." The Briton muttered in defeat while refusing to get up and lying down on the bed in complete exhaustion. The zodiac glared at him before swimming closer.

"_Artie, you are completely useless without me, aren't you?" _She whispered while patting his head softly.

Through the openings of his bed sheet and pillow, the Briton could see the beautiful mermaid floating near him.

Mina was also known as Pisces, and she was rather lovely despite what others thought the original zodiac would look like. The beautiful creature had a rainbow scaled fin, much like Makara's, and she had equally beautiful violet eyes; alluring and attractive just like…Alfred's.

The young mermaid was rather helpful despite her limited abilities. In fact, she was the most cheerful out of all twelve represented zodiacs, and she always somehow managed to make Arthur surprised or happy in an instant.

What a good thing for her to come. He needed her, now, at least.

"_Come on, get on your toes." _The Mermaid sighed as she flipped her watery hair from her bangs and onto her shoulders with concentration written in her eyes. "_You know how I don't like it when I see people sulk." _She added heatedly; reminding Arthur of her ire against the depressing Makara who always seemed to never cheer up even with Mina's jokes and magic.

The Briton stood up barely before he let out a frown. Lately Mina's happiness magic was making him depend on it too much. It was like some addictive drug he wanted to consume every day.

It was a miracle that he was alive. He thought he should blame Mina for always saving him from the edge of suicide.

With a twirl of her hand and a pat on his head, the young mermaid smiled after his lips started twitching up again into a beautiful grin. His heart nearly, almost felt relieved as he sat up with a stronger sense of confidence.

"_Honestly, what will you do without me?" _Mina asked proudly as she kissed the Briton on the forehead before leaving in the shade.

Maybe it was his good mood, but Arthur felt something else change inside of him as he stepped outside of his room to gaze unexpectedly happy at his surroundings. Mina's power was usually overwhelming, he suspected she added too much happiness for a longer effect; especially on him, but how depressing was he for her to add an extra dose or two?

Actually how depressing was he to ever depend on a zodiac to magically make you happy?

"Alfred where are you?" Arthur asked as he gazed at the room in front of him with a careful survey. A small sound of acknowledgement escaped the left corner of the dining room and the young Englishman traveled towards the area to see where the American was.

"Well, I'll give you one more chance, I suppose." The Briton muttered as he found a weighing guilt hover above his chest. He could hear the whimpers of the daft fool coming from the corner of his room; and he understood how Alfred was like when he felt depressed. The idiot would disappear and run off with a frantic cry; that's how Alfred was like.

The ghost only slowly appeared; and Alfred seemed to be letting out a charming, gentle smile. Arthur was taken aback as he gazed at the young American staring back at him with a look of reprieve. That smile was still held onto his face as they glistened from the setting sun. His blue sparkling pools looked up towards the Briton with relief as he suddenly jolted up to give the Briton a huge hug.

His strength was powerful and seemed to have nearly crushed the Briton's small frame. Arthur gasped at the contact, but couldn't help but stare appalled, at the wall in front of him.

It felt strange for some reason.

"I promise I won't do that ever again!" Alfred replied childishly as if he learned a lesson for good. The American's blue eyes battered with apologies as he hovered around Arthur frantically with waving arms and motion. He was babbling on and on about how he would repay him, but Arthur doubted Alfred would.

"Just shut up, you're giving me a bleeding headache." The Briton sighed while he crossed his legs over one another, as he draped himself along a slender couch. The American nodded, immediately quieting himself as he sat on the opposite end with a serious stare. Alfred really was into apologizing to Arthur, wasn't he?

"So what do you want me to do?" The ghost asked as he gazed at the Briton with a surprised stare. "I mean, since now I'm your bodyguard I can do anything for you!" He panted with soft breaths while clasping onto the side of the recliner with great strength. Arthur blinked, surprised at the obedient ghost who was gazing at him with a new sense of light.

Alfred was somehow really pushing it though.

"Just don't do that again." Arthur replied nonchalantly as he grazed his hand through his sandy locks. Alfred nodded like a puppy in control as he stuck his tongue lopsidedly out in acceptance.

If Arthur could understand clearly; there was something in the midst of the American's pale blue eyes. Something dark, but not sinister - just dark.

Alfred looked strangely pale than before, and for some reason, the dolt looked as if he were exhausted himself. Dark bags circled his eyes as if he never slept in a million years; and his hair was tussled up- maybe due to stress?

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked as he gazed at the American who stared at him with wide, blinking eyes. "You look awfully tired." He concluded while sitting up straight and striding towards the ghost who remained in his seat.

Alfred continued to gaze at Arthur who sat next to him and was studying his face a little closer. The ghost let out a bit of a troubled frown as Arthur leant closer to examine his exhaustion.

"I-I'm fine, it just takes me a while to…" Alfred closed his eyes as if he were going to sleep. But wait - Alfred _couldn't_ sleep.

Arthur blinked furiously as he gazed at the ghost who was now not responding to any of his insults.

"Wake up, you git! Wake up!" Arthur chanted, unable to do anything else as the ghost drift to his own dreamland for quite some time.

All of a sudden, Alfred kept disappearing and reappearing in mere, flashy seconds. The American would illicit a groan, and sometimes open his eyes in shock or just close them shut without saying anything.

The ghost was turning paler; and more transparent - and then all of a sudden….

He solidified and regained consciousness.

"What the hell were you trying to pull off?" Arthur growled as he pounced on the ghost as if he were his possession trying to flee from him.

The American battered his eyes, baffled at the Briton's behavior, but he shuffled himself up; propped on his elbows on the couch as he gazed at the Briton continuing to mock him in all manner of ways.

"What were you trying to do, you prick?" The angry Englishman had gotten off of the American in realization and was quickly reduced into a blushing man. Alfred quirked an eyebrow before smiling a bit brighter than his exhausted self.

"I don't know, actually…" He replied with a thoughtful tone. "It just felt that I was…finally getting somewhere." He added.

And Arthur just hoped that somewhere wasn't Alfred's heaven.


	7. One More Memory

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Seven: **One More Memory

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**Author's Notes: **Sorry, useless chapter - maybe? Perhaps? Not really? Review please! I am a busy college student these days.

**------------------------------------------**

The following morning everything went well as planned. Arthur was currently receiving some of the best behavior from the ghost; of whom was nearly obeying his every whim and command out of sheer guilt conducted from last night's talk.

Alfred was serving up tea despite his initial protests upon first meeting; and he was getting a hang of boiling the water with an old fashioned kettle and stove, and adding up the packets containing who knows what inside? The ghost was overenthusiastic, though, much to the Briton's obvious irritation; but that was because it was morning and he hadn't had a good night's sleep after pondering about Alfred's strange traits compared to what "normal spirits" were like.

"Hand me the coaster, will you please?" Arthur replied silently in a deep reverie as he gazed at the ghost who had solidified for a moment to bring the flat, thatched object towards him.

The young American cautiously handed the coaster with a small smile; but for some reason Alfred seemed to be concentrating a little too much on the object he was handing away.

Arthur could immediately tell that something was off as he stared at the youth who happily lodged the item onto the table without a second glance back. Blue eyes averted away as if to hide something; but Arthur didn't want to necessarily pry into the ghost's business despite what others would think.

Because even though he was a prick at times, he was certainly, mostly a gentleman despite what everyone else would think of him.

"Are you feeling well?" Was the Englishman's first question as he steadily watched Alfred with a wondering tone in the edge of his voice. "If you aren't feeling well, you can stay here for today while I start my research in the library." He continued on while taking one more sip of his Chamomile Tea.

The blue-eyed wonder stared at him in a nervous glance; before he sat down, limp, on the other side of the room. "What makes you think I'm not feeling all to well?" The ghost replied with a cheery remark. Sky-blue silently stared into forest-green eyes with an awkward silence infiltrating their area.

"N-Nothing!" Arthur snapped with agitation as he placed the teacup onto the coaster with a rather forceful slam. He didn't want to pry into the idiot's privacy; however, it bugged him to death to see that Alfred, his bodyguard, was even trying to hide something from _him_.

The cup swirled in a rather slow motion as it gained it's balance, landing softly onto it's base. Alfred stared quietly at the cup with a realization of Arthur's upset nature. A small smile crept unto his lips, but he definitely did _not_ want to talk about what was going on with him. He knew how much it might have bugged the young Brit, but he also knew how important it was for him as a bodyguard to relax the young man from worrying.

After all neither a bodyguard nor a hero upsets a damsel.

"I'm perfectly fine, Artie." The American breathed as his eyes glazed a bit towards the Englishman who seemed ready to fume. It was amusing for Alfred to see Arthur so upset over a ghost's silly problem, and he found the young man especially adorable whenever he pouted in that way; his green eyes glistening as if he were to cry and puckered lips that were ready to quiver at any given moment.

"Besides," He continued while staring at the Briton with a soft smile spreading across his complexion, "I want to see what you do for a living." He announced while puffing his chest in excitement and pulling out an umbrella from Arthur's closet in a hurry.

Arthur stared quietly at the umbrella in the young American's hand. Alfred looked as if he were going to drop it if he didn't clutch onto the item so hard. The Briton could actually tell the ghost was having a hard time in holding the item as his nails dug into his ghostly flesh. Alfred also seemed to be squirming as he gazed quietly at the side of the room; trying to ignore Arthur's following gazes.

"Alfred, do you want to tell me anything?" The Englishman breathed as he closed his eyes while hoping to dear God that the American would at least admit something was wrong. He didn't like how Alfred kept a secret behind him; and he hated when he knew that secret was probably important.

"Nope, nothing at all." Chirped the daft blonde as he turned around from the Brit's room while opening the umbrella inside the house. _Again_. Arthur was going to scream at him at the top of his lungs, but the ghost immediately ran away outside the apartment room, himself, before getting lounged at by the angry Brit.

As Arthur wrung the ghost's neck, with Alfred laughing at his weak attempts, he could feel how even colder the ghost had gotten from yesterday; and it was amazing at how frigid the young man felt against his own warm fingertips.

There was definitely something going on with the idiot American, but the daft fool was too stubborn to even tell him.

And he was even more stubborn to break his habit of being a gentleman.

"Mommy, what is he doing?" A child's voice rung with a tone of interest, and he stopped strangling Alfred while gazing up at a young girl.

She had blonde hair, lighter than Alfred's, and they were curled into beautiful ringlets. Her eyes were dark emerald, and she had a tint of pink spreading across her cute face. She wore beige caprice and a baby blue dress shirt that fell to her knees.

She held tightly onto her mother's arm as she stared at Arthur, who was (in her eyes) sitting on top of nothing while crouching down and holding nothing with his arms in a tight manner.

Arthur felt foolish, but Alfred kept smiling idiotically underneath him.

"Darling, don't even dare look at him." The woman instructed while heading straight across the street with a rather dignified air about her. The girl stared at him with one more glance, until the mother tugged her hard, forcing the young girl to face away from the awkward man.

Arthur gritted his teeth and got off the American while patting the dust off of his daytime clothes. He sighed while rustling his hair with his free hand (his other hand held tightly onto the American's tie).

"From now on, you do absolutely _nothing_ unless I ask for your help." The Briton ordered while huffing and taking his tote bag and marching towards the direction of the oldest library in town.

**------------------------------------------**

First of all Alfred didn't know the town even _had_ a library. Second of all, the library was so small and weak looking he almost seemed to burst in laughter with how pathetic the ancient housing's foundation was.

It was a crimson colored store; with poor shingles loosely falling off the rooftop. Broken window shutters fluttered carelessly from the wind's harsh breezes, and there were even cracks amongst the windowpanes that barely even reflected one's own image.

"Oh, shut up." Arthur retorted while they entered the town's official library. Alfred was ready to laugh, but held it in due to the Briton's orders. There were lots of bookcases despite it's outward appearance, but nevertheless, it wasn't as huge as a normal library Alfred was used to.

The Briton instinctively delved into the deepest corner of the store; his hands traveling alongside the paneling of the books' spines. The Briton was used to coming over to the library; it was one of his favorite places other than the Tea Shop.

There was no one who even dared enter the library; from what Arthur knew. The only one who ever came was the bookkeeper, who didn't even care whether or not someone stole a book or two. Besides, books weren't really popular in this poor, unintelligent area.

"What are you looking for?" Alfred asked as he stretched himself, touching his hands on the ceiling that was barely inches away from Arthur's own head.

The room was so stuffy, Alfred hated the feeling of how close everything seemed. It was like prison; he was too confined in one area!

"None of your business." Was Arthur's automatic response as he took a book that read _Ghost Convention_ in golden text. "Why don't you go find your own book to read while I look around a bit?" He demanded more than asked, and pointed off to a random direction while trying to shoo the American away with a swish of his hand.

Alfred slumped his shoulders, pouted, and left with irritation as he crossed his arms and stared into the library with boredom. He never really liked going to places like these. So many things, _needless_ things, that were boring and nothing but letters to see! He hated these places a lot, he could remember his first time going to the library…..

He could _remember_?

The American blinked in surprise as he recalled the first time he went with his mom to the library to rent out a children's book.

**------------------------------------------**

_The room was bustling with children eager to learn new things, like read and write, and have just plain "fun". But to Alfred F. Jones it was nothing but pure hell as he sat through the nursery doing nothing but gazing at the children reading the pictures with excitement or trying to spell something readable with the spelling blocks of various colors._

_The six year old stared bewildered at how those children were having fun with stupid, petty things like building blocks and books! He knew it meant well to teach them a few things; but to him, learning was never fun despite all the promises of teaching them without knowing it._

_Alfred was a kid who enjoyed running around, climbing trees and using up his energy; not thinking and using his head to solve difficult problems or spell words he would never use again._

_Education was always more of a forceful event for Alfred then an exciting learning experience. The toddler sighed as he sat down by himself on the edge of the carpeted stairs. His toes were barely touching the other step as he gazed down below him at the other kids having fun with the educational tools the nurses had given them._

"_Alfred, why don't you read?" One brunette asked as she sat down besides the boy who only grunted while swinging his legs childishly, but naturally. "It's not fun doing things alone, I'm sure if you read a book - you'll spread your imagination more and have fun with the other kids." The Nurse suggested to him many things, but he would never take them up. Never._

_The children never really spoke to Alfred. Partly because he was different. Not in a strange way, but it was due to his way of being. _

_He was a runner, a climber, an adventurer, but in the nursery and primary school he was put in they were all thinkers, philosophers, and the other types of people he just couldn't get along with._

_The Nurses grew worried over him despite his claims of being happy without friends, but they would never give into his "okays" and "I'm alright" phases._

_After a couple of days, with the Nurse's constant complaints to his mother of Alfred's inability to make friends or advance in his learning, his mother stared sternly at him with a frown while picking him up in her arms._

_If he could recall, his mother was an intelligent woman. Always working in an office and wearing a business suit ranging from various violet shades. _

_She had pearly blue eyes, and long golden hair that fell to her shoulders whenever she chose not to wear a bun; and most of all she had a perfect smile that would always trace her lips in the right way._

_He didn't know what she was going to do. Normally she would stay quiet and hold him in her arms while telling him how naughty of a boy he was, but today was different._

_She was holding him in her arms, as she walked rather swiftly with a dignified aura around her. She was adamant about doing something, but he didn't know what she wanted to do._

_Thirty minutes later he found himself in a new world surrounded by the things he hated the most._

_Books._

_Various books were piled into neat stacks. Novels, leather bound, hardbacks, paper books, and children's stories groveled on the floor begging him to open each and everyone of them._

_He stared at distaste as his mother propped him on the floor while opening up a small text in her huge palms. _

"_Alfred, why don't you read this?" She whispered while scooping him up and pointing at a picture of a puppy. He gazed at it hard while he turned his head around in disapproval. A small pout childishly hung on his face as he crossed his arms and began to whine. "If you don't start reading, you'll be made fun of." His mother warned as she traveled towards the counter, picking up more books along the way, and checking them out._

"_You want to be a smart boy when you grow up, right?" Her voice was smiling as they traveled out into the light illuminated by the outdoors._

_It was so bright, he could barely open his eyes as they walked into the new light._

"_Mommy!" Called another voice towards their direction, and she looked around facing some other child from out of the blue…._

**------------------------------------------**

"What are you doing there, goofing around?" Arthur asked as he waved his book in front of the young ghost who had seemed rather frightened out of surprise as he held tightly onto a picture book he randomly took from a shelf.

Arthur peered over the American's shoulder as he stared at an awfully drawn picture of a dog with no leash; crying and begging to come back home. The title written on it was, _The Lost Puppy_.

At first the Briton blinked furiously trying to comprehend the book the American had absentmindedly chosen. After a few seconds his face turned a pale white and then into a strange, flushed pink. After trying a poor attempt to stop himself from bubbling in laughter; the Englishman dropped his own book on the floor, carelessly, and began to chuckle loudly while covering his mouth from any disturbing sight.

"Don't tell me you only read picture books, Alfred." He mused with a heavy sigh as his green eyes twinkled.

Alfred had never seen Arthur smile and laugh like that before, and only seemed to grin, himself, despite the aching in his heart forming because of some unknown past. Arthur was continuing to laugh while the ghost was trying his best to mock a chuckle.

"You are very childish, aren't you?" The Briton smirked as he bent down to scoop up the book he was holding. Alfred stared silently at the leather bound novel, engraved with silver text, named _Spirits and Powers_. "Well, let's go, shall we?" The Englishman chuckled while walking out of the library; ignoring the sleeping librarian. Alfred stared absentmindedly back at the book; frowning, while chasing after the Briton.


	8. Dreams and SelfProclamation

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Eight: **Dreams and Self Proclamations

**----------------------------------------**

**Author's Notes: **I swear I found a new bridge!

**----------------------------------------**

He was standing there, right outside in the rain, with his blue and green striped umbrella promptly secured in his hands.

A downpour of water was sloshing all over the strange place; and for some explanation as he walked closer to his apartment, he could sense a cold chill run up his spine whenever he decided to quicken his pace.

For some reason he felt the same panic surging right through him as the day those three masked men came to attack him. He could sense the hostility in the air as the droplets swung or slid across the plastic fabric of his raincoat or hit the pavement floor with an unnoticed slam.

The violence rung intensely throughout the environment; and he stared both directions to see if anyone else could feel it, but alas no one was even there.

His breathing grew harsh, as the blood in his veins began to run quicker inside him. A cold air surrounded the atmosphere as he tried pushing himself to find the entrance.

It was as if the whole world was laughing at him; and despite all his running he couldn't ever get out of his situation. He looks bewildered at the distance from him and the apartment, his mouth is running off but he doesn't know what he's saying.

It was completely futile he thought as he realized that he was not covering any distance despite his quick pace.

He looks again for another person, another soul who was in his same condition; and as he stares into the black surroundings he finds a light in the corner of his eyes.

And then while turning his head around….he sees a silhouette in the corner of the street lamp.

A familiar figure was calling out to him – but he can't recall who it is despite the familiar voice. The tone was kind and gentle, and commanding at the same time; and was coated with honey as the voice commanded him to come closer.

He wanted to; he needed to he conjectured; however, he found himself rooted on the ground.

He stops for a second, and then realizes that maybe it was just too late to do anything now that he hasn't made any distance from all his running. And he finds himself kneeling on the floor; crouching and crying while landing hard on the concrete as if the whole world ended. He lifts his face to see if the silhouette was there, but as his green eyes stare at the street lamp he finds the corner completely empty.

His heart grew hallow.

**----------------------------------------**

Arthur woke up in tears as he jolted up from his mattress. His mouth was quivering, and mumbling an incoherent name as he choked on his own saliva and clutched desperately onto his sheets.

His flesh felt as cold as his dream, and his emerald eyes searched frantically to find the light switch and thermostat to warm him up.

Clumsily escaping from his bed, the Briton stared at his alarm clock which read midnight in blaring, digital numbers. A neon red flashed softly towards him as he stared stoically at the device with nothing but hidden resentment.

That bloody dream was at fault; and yet the only thing close for him to take his anger out on was the clichéd clock that innocently stood on his bedside stand. A frown spread across his pallid face as Arthur scrambled out of the messy sheets and decided that maybe a midnight cup of tea would do well to ease his pounding heart.

In general, Arthur detested dreams. He found them either completely useless or extremely aggravating. And the recent reverie he concocted was the latter or maybe both, in a sense.

Honestly, what was the point of having dreams? All it ever did was wake you up disappointed. It was like a reality in another world, teasing at you with all the happiness you could ever imagine but can never really grasp, unless your dream was _that_ tangible. And who had dreams that were tangible?

The young Englishman sighed as he exited out of his bleak room; turning on the hallway lights while swiftly approaching the kitchen.

His mind wasn't getting easily off the topic as he constantly reminded himself of the silhouette at the street corner while he made his way through the empty space in the kitchen.

He hit something; and swore while clutching onto his stubbed toe. After a while, the Briton got back in his composure and made sense to himself whilst he turned on the chandelier lights.

He would have kept silent if he could remember that he had another resident living with him.

"Oh my God, Alfred!" Arthur covered his mouth as he found the ghost staring at him from the breakfast table near the patio. The young American smiled foolishly as he waved childishly while swinging his legs back and forth with a lazy attitude in mind. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" The Briton grumbled while he took his time to feel his heart rebalance its beat. The American just gazed at him with lulled eyes as he rolled his beautiful blue up towards his forehead.

"Honestly? Really? You're asking me _this_?" The Blonde asked with a chuckle while taking a sip of his midnight coffee. Arthur gazed at the ghost who grimaced as he pointed outside towards the moon. "Remember? I can't sleep." He put it out bluntly while placing the cup back onto the coaster to please the crumby Brit. The Englishman stuttered while turning a shameful red as he retreated towards his cabinet to find some Earl Gray.

"Well that doesn't mean you should remain silent while I make myself a fool in the dark." Arthur protested stiffly as he searched through the packets to find the correct brand. Alfred shrugged with a light chuckle as he turned his attention back towards the full moon.

He faced the grand, nightly beauty as he leaned on the table with his elbows propped on the edges, while humming a small tune he learned himself from watching one of Arthur's television programs.

If there was anything that could keep Alfred quiet, Arthur speculated it was only night time that made the ghost especially silent.

Alfred, even though he claimed he detested the long and dark silence, seemed to appreciate the quiet hours as humanity slept. The ghost even showed his devotion to the silent nights; as he grew more concrete himself. The dark, just like the shadows in the daylight, allowed the American to be more flexible in movement and tangibility.

The two both found out when Arthur accidentally ran into the ghost while sleepwalking and _man_ did that hurt! Alfred felt like a brick wall compared to the soft, cold flesh Arthur was used to.

"Elbows off." Arthur commented as he sat next to the American while taking his tea into the base of his palms. The American obeyed, but retained the melancholic look as he stared into the beauty of the moon with a tad hint of fondness.

There was something written in Alfred's eyes that made Arthur feel a bit jealous of the moon. He didn't understand why at the moment, but Alfred had never looked so much more…human the way he looked at the glistening replacement of the sun.

"Have you ever asked yourself what it's like to be all the way up there?" The American asked from out of the blue while he stared daydreaming at the moon with cloudy eyes.

Arthur scoffed a bit as he took a bitter sip of his tea while crossing his legs in an old fashion. "Of course not, there are better things to be thinking about other than prancing about in space." He replied while closing his eyes, grasping firmly onto his porcelain tea set. He heard Alfred laugh at first, and then as he fluttered his emerald eyes open he found a small sad smile cross the American's usual cheery face.

"Yeah…I guess you're right." The ghost admitted to himself as he let out a heavy sigh of regret or defeat. Alfred ran a pale hand through his wispy hair as he bit his lower lip to refrain from any further commenting. "A-Anyways, why are you up?" The American asked as his sapphire eyes tested Arthur's emerald.

The Briton looked up with a shock written in his own pools as he remembered why he had abruptly woken up in the early morning.

It was that damned dream's fault, he thought to himself – but if he told Alfred, the ghost would only howl in laughter at him for his foolishness.

Him and his dreams, he thought he would never again get a dream like that. The last time he had had a dream full of mystery was the time Makara and Epsilon suddenly disappeared after having an argument, and that dream was full of horror.

"It's none of your business!" He replied immediately while turning a bashful carnation pink. The American cocked his head sideways in amusement as he crossed his arms while letting out a lopsided grin across his annoying face. "Honestly, you have no right to know." He concluded, but all Alfred did was nod and roll his eyes upwards as if the Briton was completely idiotic.

"You always say the same thing, did you know that?" Asked the American who gazed into his eyes with fascination. "Just yesterday, when we were at the library you told me it was none of my business. Remember?" The American dove closer to stare into the Briton's shocked emerald.

Honestly, the closer Alfred got to Arthur – the more Arthur felt himself being invaded by a bleeding twat who had no idea what personal space meant.

"Stop that, you're too close." The Englishman replied nonchalantly although the reddish blush escaped towards the end of his cheeks as he stared at the ghost who blinked several times in sheepish glances. "Anyways," he continued on while adjusting the collar of his pajamas in a fidgety motion, "I don't expect _you _or _anyone_ for that matter to have the rights to invade my personal things." He hissed back and stared at his reflection from the muddled pool of his dark tea.

Alfred only slumped his shoulders in defeat while looking back towards the damned moon. Honestly, Arthur was with him and yet the two could barely strike up a nice conversation, especially in a silent night like this one.

The ghost inhaled the fresh midnight air as he absentmindedly took a sip of his black coffee. Arthur looked somewhat annoyed while the American was purposely ignoring him, but the Briton kept his own remarks to himself as he enjoyed the last sip of his Earl Gray.

There was something remarkably strange about Alfred. He was less energetic as his daily self, but that was no big problem for the Briton who had realized Alfred's respectful behavior during the night. In fact, the huge problem to the Briton was the reading he had done a few hours ago in the book he had took from the library.

Alfred was no doubt a suspicious spirit in Arthur's eyes. Unlike all the spirits and zodiacs he had ever talked to, the young ghost had some affiliation with the world; some connection that even allowed for him to be concrete at certain times.

Alfred was indeed a mystical, awkward creature that had stumbled into his world; and Arthur was somewhat grateful for that.

And yet something eerily bothered him. Why _was_ Alfred different? Why was he the only one that could touch things, solidify and choose not to be seen? Why couldn't Arthur see him when he wanted to, himself? The Briton was flustered at all the questions racing through his mind.

"I'll find you out soon enough." He muttered out of his breath while taking his cup and staring at the empty space inside of it.


	9. A Sense of Familiarity

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Nine:** A Sense of Familiarity

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the half-assed chapter I sent out the last time. I had no bridge to where I was getting at, but I wanted to develop the characters if only a little. So, I hope this chapter can somehow appease your taste. If not, I'm truly sorry. Again, for those who have time I'd appreciate it if you went on and reviewed the story. Thank you so much!

It was a glorious morning, from what the American thought. Everything was what it should be. A morning of vast blue skies and golden hints of sunshine rays was what made the world seem so good. No clouds were in sight to cover any part of the beautiful sky, and even the birds and bugs seemed to have voiced their same opinion with more beautiful notes ringing through the atmosphere.

To Arthur though, it was completely different.

Although it was a rare sight to be had in such a dreary town, nothing could be any worse than meeting one's own fear.

They were travelling back towards what Arthur affectionately nicknamed as the "God-forbidden Haven."

Arthur was hesitant in travelling back towards the area, but Alfred was insistent on meeting the Tea Shop owners, once again, after awkwardly severing their friendly ties from an out of the blue introduction by the ghost, himself.

Arthur didn't know what to think when Alfred had randomly proposed to meet the three brothers. At first the American seemed like he was joking which got the Briton very irritated but as a matter of minutes flew by the Englishman started to understand that the bleeding idiot was _very_ serious in his proposition.

"Come on, Arthur, this will make things easier for you if you just would come back and tell them everything!" Alfred commented while he tugged softly onto the other man's sleeve like a child. The American wanted to prove the Englishman that he could be considerate; and the following thing he was going to do was to get Wang, Im Young and Kiku's acceptance of a supernatural being to prove himself for the stubborn Briton.

Arthur on the other hand was proving to be difficult despite Alfred's "considerate" attitude. He was fussing all along in the ghost's strong grip as he trudged across the broken cement pavement with a scowl carved onto his flushed face.

Honestly, he had already looked like a fool to Wang and his brother; and he did not want to repeat his stupidity in front of the Asian brothers. Especially to Kiku…

Kiku wasn't there, thank goodness, at the time of Alfred's spontaneous introduction to Wang and Im Young. But the two brothers probably told the other, and that worried Arthur so very much.

Kiku was somewhat, close to Arthur's heart, despite his own regulations of not having to deal with anyone who disliked magic or couldn't see spiritual creatures.

And Alfred probably knew the Briton had a somewhat soft heart for the delicate Japanese.

"Come on," the American coaxed as they trudged onto the broken concrete; staring at the opening of the Tea Shop which was slowly losing business bit by bit.

A wooden sign was hanging loosely around the tea shop exclaiming its current predicament, and alongside the wooden panel hung another sign washed with red block patterned words: "Help Wanted."

The Briton was flustered as he let go of the American's hand to stare at the sign that seemed to shed on him with a bit of hope. His emerald eyes sparkled with interest as he absentmindedly took it within his grasp and gazed at the solid lines of the words. It was probably Kiku's handwriting, he mused, and a small upturn of his lips gracefully began to make an appearance.

Alfred could see the way Arthur was whenever he was near the Japanese boy. The Briton would always be majorly polite or sometimes awkward with stutters and fallen statements dripping from his moist lips. The young Briton's eyes would always travel towards where Kiku was, and silently Alfred could see how much the Englishman was head over heels for the delicate boy.

They were inside the tea shop, finally, after having pushed Arthur forcefully inside – and the meeting seemed rather awkward at first with Wang and Im Young gazing at the Briton with a certain suspicion in their eyes.

Kiku was the first to politely excuse himself and his brothers despite their alleged claims, and as usual he had come to Arthur with a cup of Chamomile Tea and Newspaper in hand.

Arthur turned scarlet at the usual politeness of the Japanese, and seemed to have coughed a bit for his foolishness as his fingers trembled to take a tight grasp on the handle.

"My brothers speak of your….spirit friend." Kiku replied softly as he observed the area between Arthur and the other seat in front of the blonde, which the Japanese thought to, have had a special guest. "Is he, perchance, here?" He pointed rather bashfully at the empty space of the booth where Arthur was occupying.

"Um, well …If you don't mind…" The Briton's voice trembled slightly as he gazed at Kiku, hoping not to sound like some sort of idiot or lunatic.

Alfred out of annoyance gazed at Arthur with an even glare. If the Briton wanted to make amends with Alfred's own foolishness, then the Briton should just admit what was there.

"No…he's not there, right now, that is." The bright blonde smiled with a chuckle as he placed his teacup down in satisfaction.

Kiku looked thoughtfully at the empty space while walking towards it bashfully and waving his hand about in front of Alfred's face with a timid grace.

With a disappointed sigh, and an irritated look from Arthur's 'don't-you-dare' face, Alfred got up and solidified, and took Kiku's hand in a gentle grasp.

He was tired of Arthur's stupid feigns.

The Japanese did not shriek at all as he found his hand in a cold, mysterious grasp, in fact he was preparing himself for this (after hearing about Arthur and his "spirits" all the time); and as he squinted ever so quietly he could make out a figure.

It was a blonde, with glasses and powerful blue eyes. He wore a nice business suit, ruffled a bit but it still made him look professional. A smile upturned on Alfred's face as he realized that Kiku could see him if only a little.

"Nice to meet you…" He replied gently while gazing at the fragile, raven-haired boy with interest.

Kiku's hazel eyes gazed at the beautiful figure before him. The man was obviously an American with his blunt accent, and he could immediately tell that the soul before him was clean, pure and bright with all the energy waves he was getting from the tall figure.

"You look familiar…" The Japanese whispered gently as he went over to touch the American's cheek with his free hands. The cold flesh of the ghost left briefly from the Japanese's touch, and ever so slightly they could feel some connection surging through them.

Arthur did not know what to say; did not know how to intervene their intimate looks; so all he did was watch from afar in pure excitement or jealousy. He did not know. His hands clasped tightly onto his pants, while he stared at Kiku's heartfelt eyes, and gazed at Alfred's gentle glances. _You look familiar… really_? Did Kiku and Alfred once meet?

It was hard to tell based on the book he was reading about. Normally a ghost would not appear until at least fifty years after death; so it was an immediate no-no in Arthur's thoughts.

"I look familiar, do I?" The American replied softly with a bittersweet smile hanging onto his face. Kiku could feel a swell of emotion undertake him, as the American begun to fade from his view. "I hope we see each other soon," replied the ghost, before completely vanishing from the Japanese's sight.

After Alfred had disappeared from Kiku's view the American had also vanished from Arthur's sight. The Briton speculated it must be that random syndrome Alfred had when he kept reappearing and disappearing the other night. A tight frown plastered onto Arthur's face as he found the space empty without an annoying American.

Furthermore, his attention got on hold after hearing a small weeping coming from Kiku, himself.

It was puzzling to see the small waiter kneel down on the floor; overwhelmed with powerful emotions that swept throughout his body. The poor boy was crying hard as he clutched onto the platter he was holding onto, and wiped his tears furiously with his free hand.

Arthur had never seen the poor boy so distraught like this before. The young lad's face was beaten to a light pink, and tears kept overflowing him as he bit his lower lip and tried desperately to wave Arthur away.

"Come on, Kiku, get up. It's fine. I'm here." The Englishman whispered softly as he took up the Japanese in his arms while soothing his back.

This time around, Im Young came after hearing his brother in a wailing fit; and hopped over with curious eyes. The young boy was sitting on a stool while waving his legs back and forth from the difference of height from the floor to him.

"Wang, Arthur did something again!!!" The child replied automatically as he hopped off the stool and got over towards his crying brother.

Arthur swore that Im Young was a nuisance especially on times like these; so he tried his best to comfort Kiku as much as possible while glaring at the young boy who stared at the scene with interest.

"Im Young, how many times must I tell you to behave?" Kiku sniffed while gazing at his little brother with a scolding stare. A smile however, took form on his lips as he wiped his hazel eyes with the sheets of his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland, my brother is such a nuisance." The Japanese sighed while taking off, and holding his brother by the arm to inform the eldest of the idiot child's outcry.

Alfred must have done something terribly wrong to make Kiku cry; Arthur felt sure of it as he stared menacingly at the empty gap of his room. It was completely silent after the two had left; and he could feel an emptiness surrounding the area.

"Alfred, we're going to have a nice talk after this!" The Briton shouted, shamelessly while walking over towards the counter to see if the boys were alright.

He was completely aggravated at the ghost's bipolar attitude. At one point Alfred insisted on helping his relationship with the Asian brothers, and then suddenly Alfred would make everything worse again. He didn't understand the ghost, _at all_.

Even the simplest of traits managed to make him confused; such as the cold flesh and ability to solidify and grasp things. The ghost was a complete mystery to even Arthur, himself, who had been living all along with the most mystical and mysterious!

Why was he like that, then?

Kiku had reappeared with Wang watching steadily from the far back of the counter. Im Young was making some sort of crepe while singing a childish song about faeries and hills. Arthur stared silently with apology towards the Japanese, but Kiku insisted that it was perfectly fine.

"It felt oddly refreshing." Kiku reassured him while pressing a smile to his lips. The corners of his eyes were still blotched with a strange pink; but the Japanese insisted that everything from then on out was well.

Arthur was a bit hesitant; but decided to stop pushing the subject further as the Japanese let out a soft sound of relief or some strange noise of happy familiarity.

It was as if Kiku was sighing in a daydreaming tone that made Arthur feel embarrassed and envious of the sudden contact with him and the ghost.

Honestly, he was going to _wake_ Alfred up!

The stupid ghost will be his soon. He knew it.

He'll see who Alfred F. Jones truly is.

But he needed for the ghost to appear for that.

And for a record time, Alfred wasn't reappearing.


	10. Brand of Magic

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Ten: **Brand of Magic

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**Author's Note: **I'm quite close to the end – but not really? Does that help? _Read & Review, _anyone?

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It was a light, blearing room. Haunting and oddly familiar; it was frosted with exceptionally cold temperatures and it was coated with a special white, burning wallpaper – unbearable to most people. Nevertheless, the quarter was adorned with extra sanitary bed sheets, comforters, lamps and a table desk of the same color. Everything was left in a unified style and no matter how pretty it seemed it was quite the horror.

Everything was a perfect match or blend of crisp pallor. Everything in the room was spotless, hygienic and showed absolute signs of a perfect, sterile environment. It could be any perfectionist's dream home, and yet it was oddly bloodcurdling.

He could actually smell the cleanliness of the room with just a waft of the repetitive sprays of cleaning solutions, and even the crescent dips of the tiles in between on the floor barely had wedges of dirt or scratches made by numerous skids of people's leather shoes.

Alfred found himself gazing at the room with a dumbfounded expression slapped onto his tan face as he gazed at the uncomfortable area. It was too perfect for him, and yet something screamed at him with a powerful, yet frighteningly sad aura.

A feeling of belongingness surged through him, as he gazed outside the window to find a city lying just right outside of the building. There were strips of competing business chains ranging in from designer's to coffee shops, not to mention there was a huge shopping district right in the middle of it all with gigantic, blue lights spelling out a blurry word that was too far away for him to read.

"Where am I?" The American replied with astonishment while backing away from his view and averting his attention back to the room that intensely bothered him.

It was still annoyingly white and beautiful. His eyes were starting to hurt, and yet he kept them wide open as to keep every detail engraved onto his mind.

A small beating caught his attention, and the American takes time to turn around another time to see where it is coming from. But despite his constant stares for wherever the sound was emitting from, he could not find the device or the origin of the beat.

Constantly turning his head, Alfred finds himself laying eyes on something he hadn't noticed before, but probably should have…

His body ran frigid as he found a figure under the white sheets of the perfect bed, and out of instinct he decided that maybe he should see who was under all of those white comforters?

His blue eyes gazed intensely at the prominent figure; and step by step he found himself getting closer – closing the gap with long strides of his very slender legs.

Stepping closer, breathing harder, and squinting ever more furiously; the American was ready to push the curtain away that had obscured the body's identity – he thought that maybe there was some connection to where he was at; and yet…

His glasses fogged up before he could push the curtain away; and as his fingertips touched the soft fabric of the white curtains he found himself blinking in disbelief.

He was back at the Tea Shop.

"What the hell just happened?" The American asked no one in particular as he stared at the emptiness of the room. The analog clock, hanging from the left corner of the register room read 1 AM, and he found his heart beating in panic. "Was I gone for _that_ long?" He muttered while running a hand through his honey blonde hair.

He had never been this gone for so long, before! The last time it was just a couple of seconds and a few flashes of white, but that was it!

Arthur and he had just arrived at 8 in the afternoon to go to the teashop, so how long had he been really gone? Was he even in the right place and moment? His heart skipped a beat while he spun in a halfway turn and lounged out of the deserted area to Arthur's apartment.

It was an eerily silent midnight; and the only thing that seemed to comfort him was the moon that was constantly hovering near him to give him at least some sense of protection. The ghost's heart was beating so rapidly he swore he could have skipped a few beats due to his increasing stress.

Glasses fogging up just as before the honey blonde, searched frantically for which roads to take. It wasn't because he didn't know the direction to Arthur's abode, but it was because of the interference of panic that had struck his mind to make him irrational in his thoughts.

But the main question he asked himself, other than why he wasn't getting any closer to Arthur's room, while he was running was _why_ was he scared? What was he funning for, again? He felt some strange horror strike through him and he could only find himself in peace if he could just see Arthur warm and safe.

And there.

The first thing he did when he reached Arthur's door was slam it open despite the ferocity of the lock's intended grasp.

Arthur was reading a newspaper while drinking a nice cup of tea before spitting all the contents out with fright as he heard the large door crash into the wall.

"What in blazing hell-?" The Briton grumbled in complete irritation as he ran out to his entryway to find the American gazing at him with terrified puppy eyes, mouth whimpering and body shaking uncontrollably. "Alfred! You're back!" The man replied in relief while he let out a sigh of content; he then gazed at him irritably after finding his door in the corner of his living room; lazily hanging about with no more purpose.

"I-I-I…" The ghost was too much of in shock as he ran towards the Englishman with thoughts racing through his mind. He didn't know why he was behaving like this, but something in him told him that if he wasn't there Arthur would be defenseless. More importantly, something told him that he would soon not see Arthur anymore.

"Alfred, what's wrong?" The Briton was able to muster through the tight grip the American was performing. Alfred laid his head on the Englishman's shoulder, allowing the Briton to stiffen up as he felt the strange coolness of the ghost's body indulge itself on him.

"Alfred, what happened?" Arthur closed his eyes while soothing the American's back before noticing the helplessness cast into those bright blue eyes.

There was a profound sadness lurking in the depths of those sapphire pools and Arthur could feel his own heart wretch in terrible emotion as he got lulled into the American's displeasure.

"I'm glad I'm back." The American murmured truthfully while slightly adjusting his hard grip around the Briton's waist. The sadness was fading away, but exhaustion wrote on his pale face. Alfred was strangely getting sleepier as time passed, and now Arthur was starting to worry.

Sleep was never a possible symptom for spirits – especially ghosts like Alfred. Arthur found it hard as to how the ghost could even manage that! Honestly, Alfred didn't even seem like a ghost at all from what the books told him!

Typically ghost's of Alfred' s caliber shouldn't even have sleeping issues since they eventually fade away when morning arises; and usually dwell in the darkness – but Alfred was strangely staying both Night and Day which puzzled the Briton even further on what the idiot really was.

Alfred continued to embrace Arthur as if he was afraid to let go, and Arthur could feel himself secure within the American's cold grasp. "Are you alright?" The Briton questioned as he pulled away from the American to stare at the tall blonde with a concerned look but a confident smile.

Arthur was never the type to be assuring others, but Alfred looked so fragile and helpless he was easily finding himself as a doting mother reassuring her baby that she was there. The American nodded slowly, but his eyes were closing as sleep was taking over him just like the last time he disappeared, but nevertheless his grip was still hard on Arthur's waist

. Arthur started to panic at the sleepy ghost and quickly found himself lunging at the American and tossing them both down on the floor.

Alfred stared straight into those green eyes with surprise and blush was escaping on both of them as they were in close proximity to a kiss.

"Don't you dare sleep!" The Briton replied through gritted teeth while he stared in disbelief at their position.

The ghost fluttered his eyes opened and gazed into emerald green with a slight confusion. Those confused sapphire pools sparkled as he continued to stare at the awkward liveliness coming from the Briton. His heart was racing in a superior speed; it was familiar.

_His heart….?_

_Oh…So that was what the noise was…Wasn't it?_ The ghost thought to himself as he closed his eyes despite hearing the Briton's protest.

"You Git you aren't supposed to sleep at all!" Arthur was shouting while punching the American awake. The idiot was still closing his eyes, but chuckling despite the ringing pain on his chest.

"Geez, I'm just closing my eyes, Artie." Alfred retorted with a sly grin appearing on his face. A sudden bloom of happiness reappeared onto him while he took Arthur down alongside him, hugging him in a tight grip while chuckling despite the Briton's embarrassed replies.

_So that was what he heard in that room…._

Arthur at the meantime was completely baffled at the American's strange behavior, but found himself relieved to be in the ghost's arms despite how awkward that just sounded.

The Briton lay his head against the cold fabric of the ghost's suit; while softly smiling.

For some reason life without Alfred kind of seemed lonely, and he was glad to have the American back despite it only being hours since the idiot's disappearance.

The last 6 hours had been quite a nuisance to the Brit after leaving the Tea Shop without a bodyguard companion. It was honestly hectic, and he seemed to have grown quite unused to his usual lonely parade back to home.

Going back home he had to take a longer route to the apartment as he felt a strange aura surrounding his usual shortcut. He suspected it may be part of the ridiculous team Francis had once joined, and without Alfred, he was truly helpless – neither Epsilon nor the others could do absolutely _anything about it_.

Upon arriving home the Brit, in depression, after Alfred disappeared and after Alfred and Kiku had that strange enviable contact, Arthur used Mina to concoct a new happy potion for him to enjoy his time without the Ghost.

He assumed if Alfred ever got back to his world (or wherever he came) from, then everything would be better and that he just shouldn't mope all day long.

But as the day proved to him, Alfred somehow made his living a lot more livelier, and he'd be damned to say it out loud, but Alfred seemed to make life a little more – somewhat enjoyable…or rather exciting to put it in better words.

The ghost was indeed no better than Makara, Vrsabha, Epsilon or the others, but the ghost wasn't the same as them either.

Unlike the Zodiacs and other mystical creatures, Alfred was his own brand of magic. Something definitely beyond his knowledge…but he would sooner or later find out what Alfred was.

Finding himself enjoying Alfred's embrace, on the cold floor of the living room, the Briton couldn't help but blush as he felt the American's cold fingertips graze the back of his head, softly, as if the man was petting him in a gentle, but childish way.

The Briton would have scolded him, but it was too good of a moment to ruin, and so for now he would just let himself rest in peace all the while listening to the melody of Alfred's heart….

His heart…?

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"Looks like another car accident happened in the intersection near Coupled Street." Arthur stated lazily while reading the newspaper sidelines and scanning for a bit of juicier news. Alfred was chewing on buttered toast while looking through the various Magical magazines the Brit had been buying from mail order.

It was interesting to say the least, but rather freaky from what Alfred would personally think.

Honestly how many people could find a magazine specifically about voodoo dolls in a friend's home? Not many, he hoped.

The American adjusted his glasses while taking another scoop of butter and slathering it on the toast he made.

As matter of fact, the American had begun taking on the usual daily tasks; and of course, the most important task was cooking – because _damn_, the Briton couldn't cook for life!

Honestly the green-eyed man nearly burnt water! He swore the color of the liquid was turning black, but obviously (he believed) Arthur had made some strange spell or whatever to make it look back to normal! But he SWORE he saw it turn black! He couldn't mistake it!

"Please pass the – Alfred are you using all the Jelly again?" The Briton grimaced while gazing at the jar of jelly in the man's hands.

"No – this is jam, Artie, not _jelly_." The American retorted back while scooping a huge full of the sugary sweet while dumping it on his bread as condiment.

"That is completely disgusting!" The green-eyed man chided while frowning with distaste. He plopped the newspaper open to the article he was reading and quickly snatched the jar of _jam_ away from Alfred. "Honestly, even though you're a ghost doesn't mean you should think you can…get away with eating all those sweets!" He replied while screwing back the cap and walking away to put it in some other cabinet Alfred could probably get into anyways.

Meanwhile as the Briton was taking his time looking for an obvious, hiding place – the American stared down on the black text written in huge letters with interest. "Did anyone die?" Alfred asked as he drunk his morning hot milk (since Arthur refused to buy any coffee).

"Strangely no, this time, well not a lot of people die in the crashes, but there are a few huge ones that happened not too long ago…" Pondered the Briton while taking up the newspaper into his arms and staring into the American's blue pools. "Why?" He asked suspiciously.

"I don't know – I was just wondering." The ghost retorted back while finishing his mug of milk and hovering towards the sink to start washing.

Arthur stared quite suspicious of the ghost's sudden question, but decided that maybe it was best not to pry into the twat's business just yet.

"Arthur, I've been thinking…" Alfred replied solemnly as he stared at the dirty dishes with carelessness. The Brit took the rim of his teacup up to his lips as he stopped midway into drinking the hot contents.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Maybe it's time that we figure out who I am?" The American whispered quietly while smiling at the Brit with a strange sadness looming over him.


	11. Nearing You

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Eleven: **Nearing You

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**Author's Note: **This chapter is confusing; my thoughts are confusing me as well – I think I made the plot even more complex after deciding (randomly) to change my whole "theory" for Alfred. So I hope you enjoy it…It's nearing to an end, but not that near. I hope you enjoy! _Read & Review!_ More reviews will most likely mean ME WORKING MY BUTT OFF TO MAKE A FASTER, WELL THOUGHT CHAPTER!!!! Cause I'm a loser who gets motivated by awesome reviews.

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"Is there anything you can recall, _anything at all_?" The Briton replied calmly as he clasped his hands together shortly hovering below his chin; ready to rest at any given moment. "Alfred, we can't start the investigation without any past references." Arthur sighed while taking one hand from the tight grasp he had made, and drove it in his pallid wheat hair with impatience.

"Well, we can always start with where you found me…" The American replied rather regretfully as he averted his attention somewhere else. He was obviously hiding some important fact to the Briton, and Arthur would be _damned_ to have the idiot try and hide something from him! Especially something so important as to uncover a mystery surrounding the both of them!

"You git, tell me whatever you're hiding – this is getting aggravating." Arthur remarked while pointedly staring at him with a tight frown hanging onto his face. "We'll stop the investigation if you don't this instant!" He added threateningly, albeit he was lying as well.

It wasn't as if Alfred wanted to hide what he had seen during his disappearance, but there was something unsettling him whenever he wanted to mention about it. For some reason, the American feared what he thought might be possible.

Behind those curtains, it could have been _him_ on the bed – him, alive and breathing – and yet, he still didn't know where he was despite all the given surroundings. He still didn't know who was behind that curtain; and he'd be damned to get all worked up only to be left disappointed if it really _was_ him, because _damn_ he hated **not** being a ghost.

He loved going through walls, loved flying around, loved being not seen by the normal eye. Hell, he even loved _not_ sleeping; which was something almost every living person loved to do! Heck, he was pretty sure he wouldn't mind if he found himself dead (he could still eat was one of the reasons); and yet the possibility of him being alive was too great as well.

His _heart_ was unsettling him.

"Let's just start where you found me," Alfred commented once more while adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His sapphire sky eyes gleamed at the Briton with an intense pleading as he stared back onto the ground while rethinking what he was previously thinking of.

Arthur, too tired, to press any further on the idiotic American, agreed reluctantly as he stood up to put on his jacket and grab the umbrella despite the sunshine flooding across the town.

"Oh, you don't need to…" The American murmured thoughtfully with an embarrassed smile. "I think I'm pretty confident without shade anymore." He added as he exhaustively gazed towards outside the window while stepping into the fresh sunlight.

Arthur had never really noticed how beautiful the ghost was with the presence of sunlight cascading onto him. Alfred's total appearance seemed to have rejuvenated as the rays of light bathed onto him with such a gentle flow.

His sky blue eyes were lit up with a remarkable highlight of baby blue, and his usual ruff hair suddenly was a colorful field of gold rather than its pasty white. Rosy cheeks blushed even further onto his tan face, and he almost seemed as if he was…

As if he was alive.

_Was Alfred this unbearably beautiful when breathing?_ Was what Arthur wanted to ask, but he soon changed his mind after realizing what he had thought about. A ghost that is beautiful? _As if._

Although, the American was like one of those creatures he had read in fairytales that practically glowed when the sun rose in the middle of the sky. The American was like some fairy prince hovering around the palace of flowers, and yet –

Alfred was dead.

Alfred was no prince, not in his eyes at least.

The Briton had to remind himself that falling for a ghost was completely nonsensical. And that it was an idiotic ghost made it seem more unbearable.

Besides, he had another person in mind instead of the wretched American.

"Alright, well then, let's get going." Arthur barked hoarsely as he opened the door with a fit to ensue due to the Alfred's stubbornness and turned around to face Kiku who was almost ready to knock on the wooden paneling.

"Ah- Arthur-san, are you going anywhere?" The Japanese boy murmured timidly, and by god did Arthur feel his heart rise in complete shock and excitement. Kiku had never really bothered to take his time to come and meet him before! A smile was gracing onto his silky, smooth lips.

Kiku was wearing a nice, traditional kimono embroidered with a silver silk lining and patterned with violet and crimson butterflies. His hair was kept in a tidy position (unlike some idiot) and he was carrying a rather heavy looking package in his hands. Arthur looked at it with an interest.

"Oh, by all means, I was just…" His eyes rode over towards the American who was hanging about in the corner, realizing that Kiku had just made an appearance. "I was actually just going to buy groceries, but it's perfectly fine – I can wait." He smiled happily while taking off his tweed jacket and pushing the umbrella back into its holder near the coat rack.

"I didn't mean to…disturb you." Kiku replied softly as he studied Arthur's room with careful observation. "I was just…I mean, I wanted to see if you were alright since Alfred-san suddenly disappeared and everything." He murmured while turning a light pink and searching for whether or not he could feel the ghost's presence. "Is he here, by chance?" He replied with a hope ringing throughout his hazelnut eyes.

Arthur didn't know whether to tell the truth or flat out lie. It was very endearing for the boy to be concerned with the "lost ghost" however, whenever Kiku mentioned Alfred's name it was almost as if it were a chalk scratching against the blackboard.

"No, he hasn't gotten back yet." Quipped the Briton a little too quickly before gazing back into the corner noticing Alfred's rather sour mood.

"Oh, I was just…I wanted to see if he was alright." Kiku replied with a blush escaping his face. "I mean….I…" His voice faded into the silence as he held tightly onto the package he had been holding onto all along.

"W-Well, I'm sure he'll be back in no time!" Arthur smiled rather regretfully as he ushered the young male to sit down on a cashmere sofa and take a rest since it was a long distance from the shop to his apartment. "I mean, he was here yesterday – and last night – he just probably went and disappeared again." He laughed a little dryly while noticing Kiku's rather hurt expression.

Not to mention, Alfred seemed deeply offended as well. The ghost was sulking in the corner while muttering some offense towards the Briton – but hell, Arthur wasn't going to let this chance go. Kiku had never been in his apartment before and the Briton seemed to have liked the Japanese' company in his own home.

"Well, if you don't mind," continued the timid boy as he unwrapped the package revealing several sweets of various flavors.

The package ranged from strawberry delights to French silk pastries, and there was a particular piece of cake that caught Arthur's eye.

It was a dark chocolate cake with neat whip cream touched and embroidered onto its surface. Delicate walnuts were spread thoughtfully onto the patterned texture of interlaced white chocolate, and there was also a strawberry filling softly oozing out of the sweet.

It looked very much appetizing, but with Kiku's sudden alertness – he exclaimed it wasn't for him.

"It's for Alfred-san." He replied with an embarrassed stutter and looked rather shyly towards the Briton who seemed quite flustered himself.

It was for a _ghost_? Seriously? His heart sunk as he realized that the special cake was made for that bleeding idiot. "I mean, it's traditional for me to make something special for…a new person I have met." Kiku added noticing Arthur's sudden depression. "I made you a special cake too the first time I met you, remember?" He asked hoping that Arthur could realize where he was coming from.

"Of course," The Briton replied almost bitterly as he stared and chose a neat strawberry cake almost sliding away from the glassware he brought over for Kiku's occasion. Alfred seemed to have gotten nearer to the cake as he gazed at the variety of pastries before him. The American was obviously getting hungry, and Arthur was obviously getting more irritated by the American's presence.

It took some time for them to get back onto a stable conversation; and Kiku was purposely avoiding the ghost as a topic – instead he went over a more interesting subject; such as the zodiacs.

The young man was trying to occupy himself, evidently, as he took a small forkful of cake into his mouth and enjoyed the savory sweet he was biting on. Arthur was busily adjusting the green silk tie he was wearing; trying to think of some interesting fact about Makara, Mina or the others Alfred hadn't seen as of yet. Epsilon was quite saddened that no one really was interested in unicorns these days and remained sulking with the American in the farthest area.

"So who is your favorite?" Kiku asked, and from then on out the two found a small connection with their interest in astronomical creatures – and evidently left Alfred all alone.

Honestly, the American didn't know what to think or say as Arthur inexcusably decided to halt with their important investigation and flirt with a longtime friend. Wasn't Alfred, _a ghost_, even more important than a living being? Honestly – he knew how pretty Kiku was, but _damn_ Arthur was completely captivated by the fragile boy.

He could see the way his green eyes would light up automatically, and fuck he knew how much blush spread across his face whenever the two made contact. It was completely annoying, and yet torturing as well.

Torturing? He did not know how. But he thought it might have something to do with his past – maybe….

And yet seeing Arthur so happy made him feel giddy inside as well. He was so confused, and yet…

He sighed with defeat.

_Well then, if Arthur won't start the investigation then I will!_ He muttered to himself while getting up and disappearing through the wall of the abode.

The first thing he noticed was the town and its structure, and it looked almost familiar to the town he surveyed during his disappearance.

The only thing that wasn't there was the prominent building that held those powerful blue letters. He couldn't see it at all from where he was standing at. So maybe it was a town over, or something – he suspected that God couldn't just have randomly tossed him into that creepy old house close to Arthur's apartment…

So he went travelling further, and further – flying around and sometimes lazily walking by pass people, through people, under people! He wanted to solve the mystery so badly!

Even if Arthur rarely cared for him these days, he cared for himself (kind of) and he wanted badly to know whether or not he was dead or alive. Hopefully he was dead (for his expense at least.)

The problem though was the closer he got to the house, the more tired he seemed to have been getting; and to a point he nearly collapsed, and decided maybe he should rest on a bench near the central park.

He realized that the closer he was to the house, the more _dead_ he was feeling; and it felt awkward to not feel his legs or his arms as he moved them around with frustration lurking beneath his glasses.

The closer he felt like he was getting towards the old house, the heavier he seemed; as if he were dead weight to the rest of the world.

The American nearly struggled readjusting his lopsided glasses as it took several seconds for him to take his arm and control his hands, especially the fingers. Alfred sighed as he laid his head on the edge of the bench while gazing at the cloudless sky. He was exhausted just by doing that; and yet he knew he had to press onwards towards the direction of the rackety building.

But it was so exhausting…he felt as if he could die at any given moment.

He was so exhausted…and for some reason the clear blue sky seemed so much more appealing than before…

"_Alfred, what are you doing?" A small child next to him asked, as he leant over to see what the other was making in the sandbox. "Mom won't like it if you keep putting sand all over your hair." The child quipped as he leant out his own hand and let out a bashful, unusual smile._

_The small boy looked almost entirely like him, and wore the same kindergarten uniform as he did. The only difference between the pair was the eyes: his was violet and Alfred, the other, had blue, and the hair: he had shoulder length waves, and Alfred had completely short, golden hair._

"_I'm making a sand angel!" Alfred replied defensively as he waved his arms about in the huge sandbox, humming while enjoying the grainy sensation against his smooth arms. He was giggling as he felt his toes touch the cool innards of the grain, and a smile softened up on him as he stared at the _cloudless, blue sky.

_It was so beautiful; he wanted to stay inside the sandbox forever, and just gaze at the sky for as long as he wanted. "Want to watch it with me, _Matthew?_" He asked sweetly as he skidded over to the other side; ruining his angel, and laughed._

"_Sure…" The other went on while lying on the cool grain and enjoying the scenery with him._

"Matthew…" Alfred's tongue rolled unexpectedly, and as soon as he said that one name he seemed to have realized one important thing. One, **very**, important thing…

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"How is he, monsieur?" Francis whispered quietly while staring behind the glass window at the figure inside the other room. The doctor had been evidently avoiding his question for the past few minutes, but he wanted to know so badly the status of the poor victim inside. "I have the right to know, _non_?" The Frenchman replied irritably as he flipped his hair with annoyance all the while gazing at the fidgety man next to him.

"He's in a stabilized condition…" The man clad in white responded slowly before turning around to face the Frenchman. "But I'll have you know immediately, his brother is _dead_." The doctor's eyes drooped with an exhausted stare as he ran a gloved hand through the plastic protection covering his hair. "We did all our best to save the other, but…in the end saving _him_ is the only thing we can do left." He added wearily before yelling out more commands to Anesthetists and nurses.

Francis gazed across the room in a heartbroken manner, his face sliding with an awful grimace cracking onto his pallid face. Palms shaking, the young man decided that maybe it was time to just…rest.


	12. The One Who Gave Up

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twelve: **The One Who Gave Up

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**Author's Notes: **I should have made a 9/11 story, but I just couldn't find any words to express that melancholic moment. Rest in Peace to those who have suffered that moment, and let us continue on for the sake of those we have lost. Though this chapter isn't really…for 9/11.

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_"Alfred, you're completely hopeless, aren't you?" Matthew retorted softly as they stared into one another's eyes with hard concentration. There was an uneasiness brimming on the other boy's violet eyes as he bit his pink lower lip, thinking of something else to say to cheer his older twin up, but in the end nothing really ever conjured up in his poor mind._

_The other boy, on the other hand, was sitting on a pebbled hedge, swinging his legs back and forth as he decided to stare far away from his brother's alluring amethyst orbs. Instead, the American trained himself to search far away into the vast blue sky as if he were looking for a missing treasure of some sort. He failed; however, once his younger sibling gently took his chin and with a careful force, made their eyes meet._

_"Alfred, I know you more than everybody else in this world, you can tell me what's bugging you." The kind blonde replied with a weak smile struggling to take hold onto his normal depressed façade._

_Matthew was so kind, so gentle, and very handsome was what Alfred thought of as deadpanned blue met monochromatic purple. There was a hostile aura somewhere around them; the two of them could feel it as they both struggled to pan out their own emotions._

_"Is it Mother?" The boy whispered, and Alfred soon found himself blinking with confused stream of tears. "Is because of me?" He continued on, and Alfred had to question himself, why was he really crying? Who was he crying for?_

_Hot, salty tears ran down his pallid cheeks as he tried hard not to sniff or show anymore of his current feelings. It just didn't feel right for him to be so emotional when his brother was trying to put up a significantly weak front._

_Matthew only smiled bitterly as he took his brother's shoulders while taking one glance at the poor boy and the two found themselves ending up in a warm embrace._

_It was a powerful, strong hold that intertwined them together. They could both warm each other up as they felt their breaths sliding onto each other's faces, and despite the frowns and whimpering lower lips, they found comfort in each other's arms as they tried desperately to look perfectly fine._

_They were like an uninterrupted circle. Or they were at least trying to be one._

_The morning chill bitterly swung around them, as they tried to keep themselves warm outside. _

_A group of people garbed in black and beautifully patterned formal wear continued to stare in mourning, at the ditch below._

_Various petals of flowers were gently tossed onto the ground as the people initiated the depressing ritual. Children were holding onto their parents fingers with a tight grasp as if they were losing their own parents, and familiar neighbors and teachers came to give the boys one hug before leaving._

_"Even though she's gone, I'm still here, aren't I?" The soft, butterfly whisper of Matthew's tone made his heart wretch in depression, as he began to cry out in agony. "I'm still with you, right?" He asked with a mocking hope glittering in his eyes._

Now this was a memory and feeling he did not want to remember.

This feeling that was scratching at his heart, gnawing at it, and regurgitating it back was too depressing, even for him, as he realized to himself he had been sleeping on and off on the bench near the park.

This was a feeling that he never wanted to remember; he never wanted to feel that huge amount of depression weighing in on his chest; and he definitely did not want to remember Matthew's fragile smile also ready to break.

He woke up with a flurry of tears ready to pour out, and yet despite all his crying no one noticed him as he let himself into a defensive curl and began hugging his knees tightly as if he were going to die at any given moment.

This was a feeling he thought he got rid of long ago, and yet it still lingered in the depths of his heart.

The way Matthew looked; he looked so lively, happy, pretty, and at the same time depressed, exhausted and equally tormented as he was.

Speaking of Matthew, where was he?

He dug his head between his knees, and let out a soft howl of terror while digging his nails into his soft flesh.

It may not have seemed important to anyone; but the death of his mother was the beginning of almost every hardship he had to face…

But no one really knew that unless they actually knew him real life.

Alfred let out a powerful inhale as he lifted his head to gaze back at the widening sky. Clouds were forming, but quickly departing and a crack of sunlight was reemerging from a deepening gray of cumulus.

He let out an aggravated, defeated sigh whilst he took a sluggish moment to stand up and drag himself to that house.

He figured that maybe if he stood inside of it, something would return to him – but only, maybe…

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"Thank you, Kiku, it was delicious!" Arthur replied rather sweetly as he took one last sip of his Chamomile tea and set the cup down on the chestnut table in a fashionable manner.

The whole room smelt of delicate pastries, and the Englishman could feel every fiber of his being perk up with interest whenever he got the chance to inhale the Japanese' foreign scent through the murkiness of the appetizing chocolate or strawberry.

His fingers twitching as he gazed quietly at the pale boy, the Briton did not know what to do after their sudden snack halted into a quick silence.

Kiku continued to stare at him with a strange light shining in his eyes. The boy was pondering about something as well, as they locked their gazes and remained quiet for their moment of contemplation.

"Is there anything the matter?" Arthur was able to muster as he flushed a deep scarlet while touching one side of his face with the front of his right palm. The Japanese only smiled politely before shaking his head lightly in response.

"Pardon me, I was just thinking…" His reply was slow, but held much meaning as he placed his own hand over the Briton's.

This caused Arthur to jolt up a bit, perk his shoulders up in an attentive manner, and his green eyes scanned carefully into the abyss of misty hazelnut.

There was some solemn feeling coming out from Kiku as the boy smiled bitterly while smoothing his hands over Arthur's own bony fingers.

"It may seem rude, I am sorry." The pale boy replied all too quickly as he took his hand away from the baffled Briton and blushed a much more deep pink than the other man. "I was only thinking of the day we met – it seemed familiar, that was all." He hastily chose to conclude his sentence as he closed his eyes, signifying an unwillingness to hear any further comment about the subject.

A small smile approached the Englishman's face as he stared admiring the Japanese boy in front of him.

Kiku was so very kind. Unlike some stupid git!

Kiku's eyes were still closed, and the Briton found himself slowly bending over across the coffee table. Hands supporting his awkward position, their faces were inches apart, and a ghostly inhale softly prickled both of their faces.

With no more second to spare; a deep kiss was implanted between the two; and slowly tongues began to meld and dance with one another.

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"_You know, father and mother have been fighting lately." Matthew replied solemnly with a grave gaze towards the other twin. "I've seen them. Dad beats her." The boy whispered with a harsh tone while sliding against the corner of their room, and hugging his legs in a rough manner._

_Alfred had never seen Matthew this disappointed before; the boy was always so happy, so full of energy and happiness, unlike him. It caused his heart to tear as he gazed at his brother with understanding and slid over to where the other boy was at. _

_With a tight embrace, they snuggled against one another for comfort._

Alfred stared into the emptiness of the room; his hands twitching as he gazed into the bleak darkness leaking into every corner of the habitation. His pale blue eyes scanned with suspicion as he stepped into the cold area.

A sudden volt of electric ran through him.

_"Are you alright, Alfred?" He was standing in the middle of the fields while gazing at the young man below him. "Mom said for us to come home." He spoke while glancing at the boy who was refusing to respond to him. "Alfred, get up please?" He pleaded, but Alfred wouldn't speak at all._

A realization fled into the coolness of his blue eyes.

_"Alfred, how was work?" He coughed while gazing at the young adult staring at him with an unfathomable guilt. "Did you have to lay off workers again?" He asked and the American before him nodded solemnly with exhaustion._

_"This company is so hard to maintain; no one really likes coffee around here." Alfred retorted quietly as he dove a hand into his hair and gazed back at him with seriousness. "Don't worry Matthew, I'll think of something. We might have to move again, though." The man replied with a bit of haste before taking a piece of toast and heading towards the stairs with his suitcase._

Ah, so that was it?

_"You've been getting drunk lately," he whispered as he found a litter of glass bottles piling up in the recycling bin. He didn't know whether or not to praise his brother for finally recycling his things, or be upset with his brother's drinking behavior._

_"You don't understand Matthew, it's hard up here. Work, I mean." Alfred looks straight towards him with a bitter smile while taking another swig of his alcohol._

The ghost found himself losing his hold as he felt the rough bits of the wall between his fingers. The American frowned as he began to realize what he really was.

_"Alfred, you shouldn't drink and drive…" He croaked remorsefully while his brother stared at him as if he were crazy. _

_"Don't worry; I'm too awesome to hit anything when drunk." The man in front of him croaked as they entered a convertible while leaving a party that signified their success in the town._

_"This town is so small; it was easy to get their attention here." The American drawled as he spit out of the convertible and gazed at him with a smirk. "Those three Asians, I feel sorry for them." Alfred continued on while lazily staring at him with a frown ready to crack unto his face. "I promised them I would pay their shop so they can continue on with their store and all, but we all know they won't last." Alfred grumbled while slumping over and tossing the glass bottle onto the asphalt street._

Tears started rolling against his smooth cheeks. Ah, so now he knew…Now he knew…

_"You're acting like father!" He shouted as he gazed at his brother with tears in his eyes. The vision got blurry, but Alfred's figure was so prominent it didn't matter if he cried or not._

_"Don't you fucking dare say that!" The American shouted while trudging towards him in a cynical behavior. "I've fucking paved my way to success for the both of us and all you do is sit and criticize me!" Alfred hit him, and he found himself flying across the room and hitting the edge of a coffee table._

_He started crying while looking up seeing Alfred's hurt and confused expression._

_"I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry, Matthew." Alfred lent over to him and gave him that cold, cold embrace. "I didn't mean to." The American's chin lay on his shoulder while he cried in agony._

The ghost fell and found himself crying uncontrollably on the floor. He was in hysterics as he inhaled deeply and cursed out loud. "Y-You were so stupid!" He replied, and looked up seeing a broken chandelier in the middle of the black ceiling.

_"What's wrong, Matthew?" Alfred stared at him with a sad expression. "Don't cry." He whispered and gave him a warm embrace._

They were children again.

_**"Even though she's gone, I'm still here, aren't I?" The soft, butterfly whisper of Alfred's tone made his heart wretch in depression, as he began to cry out in agony. "I'm still with you, right?" He asked with a mocking hope glittering in his eyes.**_

_He nodded, and Alfred let out a broken smile before giving him one more embrace._

Travelling up the stairs the ghost found the room where he came from. It was still piled up with moving boxes, and beside all the clutter of bottles and toys he had once touched; The American found a desk with a broken mirror cracked unto its surface. He peered into the mirror, acknowledging who he found right in front of him.

_"Have you heard about the lunatic?" Alfred smirked trying to get his brother's attention while they drove. "His name is Arthur or something ; everyone's talking about him." The American looked at him for one second before taking a turn to a new street. "Seriously, who the hell believes in all that magic, right?" _

_"We believed in magic…" He responded a little too quietly, and Alfred purposely chose not to hear him._

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Kiku gazed surprised at Arthur as he held onto his chest with remorse and pain. "A-Arthur-san, p-please don't do that….please." The boy whispered quietly before getting up suddenly before accidentally knocking the pastry box over.

Arthur gazed quizzically at Kiku who seemed ashamed and baffled. He dove over towards the floor to help the boy while picking up the fallen cakes and sweets.

"I-I'm sorry." The Briton muttered in apologies while heating red in stupidity. He should have known…

There was a momentary silence between them as they locked gazes only to find a smile on each of their faces. "Next time, please…don't startle me." The boy whispered while blushing in an intense pink.

Arthur was taken aback before nodding and laughing with ecstasy.

It was strange; how much his heart could flutter in one second. It was amazing, the feeling of love.

Scooping up Kiku with his hands, he twirled the small Japanese boys in his arms while the two laughed.

He didn't need that stupid rule anymore. Kiku could see Alfred, couldn't he? He didn't need to follow that damn rule anymore. The Briton laughed as they snuggled their heads together and let a chaste kiss run quick between them.

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_"Alfred, where did you get those?" He pointed towards a table cluttered with needles and various types of drugs. The American stared at him solemnly before cursing and getting up to clean the mess on the desk. His heart was slowly breaking as he found his brother muttering something about hiding them, and forgetting to._

_"Alfred…" He inhaled as he gazed at those dark, sapphire eyes drowning themselves with angst and depression. "You told me you'd keep me warm, you'd be there for me….but I…" He choked on his sobs as he glanced at his brother._

_Alfred was lying on the couch; looking just as awful as he was after their mother's death. His hair was spread all over his face; covering his bangs, and messily hanging in different directions. His electric blue eyes were now lacking energy, and his face had become so much paler than before. He hung his legs lazily around the corner of the couch's arm, swinging it lazily as he took a cigarette and blew one puff of smoke._

_"But you're too cold…You're too cold to keep me warm." He replied while finding his vision blurry again._

_"What the fuck are you talking about?" Alfred stared at him with a broken frown and half-lidded eyes._


	13. Needless Celebration

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Thirteen: **Needless Celebration

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**Author's Note: **The last chapter was very intense. But I don't think it will be intense like the ending. But whatever, the ending hasn't come up yet so, please _read & review_! By the way, a chapter of Francis will be following up next, I think!!!

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The chime of the empty tea shop echoed with a happy song, as the two came hand in hand while looking nervously for the owner of the beverage plaza. "Oni-san, are you here?" Kiku replied with a shaky voice as he held onto Arthur's hand for support. "I-I'm back." The boy replied rather solemnly as he finally let go to hit the silver bell on the counter.

It was strangely quiet and the two were completely embarrassed to announce their sudden decision to date one another.

It didn't seem like a problem, but Wang was the sort of character who was skeptical with everybody even if they were clean or pure, Kiku's brother would not let anyone touch his brothers without his own confirmation. But that was the sort of brother, Wang was like. He was a kind; respectable brother was what Arthur felt. But sometimes he could be a cheap asshole, he added to his thoughts as he felt his hands getting clammier from all the waiting.

"Please, hold on for the moment, I think he's in the back." His love replied while smiling sweetly before getting behind the counter and slowly dashing towards the back exit of the shop.

At the meantime Arthur decided to take a seat on one of the scarlet, cherry wood stools while playing along with the various plastic forks and spoons with boredom.

He had never felt so calm before all of this happened to him. Kiku simply being in his life was absolutely amazing. He could feel his heart thrashing in joy as he thought of all the possibilities he and the boy would be able to have with one another.

_"Well, you certainly can entertain yourself, can't you?" A voice heated with a little amusement spoke to him with a rapid fire speech._

This surprised the young Briton as he stared at Mesa with complete surprise while he stopped fiddling with the plastic utensils.

Mesa was the valiant, temperamental goat, Aries, in the zodiac. He had nice, soft white fur and gleaming scarlet eyes and silver patterned hooves. Unlike Makara, who had violet eyes and golden hooves, and also had some certain wisdom about him, Mesa was more young and energetic and was always thinking about himself before anyone else.

"What are you doing here, Mesa?" Arthur replied in shock. It was rare for _this_ zodiac to come visit him these days; especially since Mesa was a procrastinator in doing things, and Makara and the others had a hard time to bring them over even for Chinese New Year: Where the zodiacs got to meet more astral signs and rejuvenate their life. But Mesa always said he hated seeing his "counterparts."

Mesa was an absolutely strange one. He was wild, but held some authority that the others respected. He was a natural born leader, and yet he held so much negative traits that Arthur simply hated.

_"Nothing really. Just kind of pissed off you're having a good time." _The goat lay on the table of the counter while glaring at him with a dynamic aura surrounding him._ "I mean, what the hell, it's not fair! While we're at home being bored and stuff, you're enjoying every bit of your damn life." _The goat grumbled and stomped his hoof with objection_. "You should be crying in agony by now." _He muttered under his breath before another zodiac appeared beside him.

_"Now, now Mesa, what did the Cardinals tell you?" _A voice grumbled beside the goat while sitting on the edge of the counter as well.

Arthur stared up to see Kumbha gazing at the Briton with kind eyes, but a serious light hid behind the pale blue of it.

Kumbha was the Aquarius sign. Although people tend to think of him as a mermaid-like figure, he was nothing but a sea serpent that was beautiful with aquatic scales and transparent fins. One could say he was even a sea dragon, but that would be praising the sign a little too much.

Kumbha was one of the most responsible of the Zodiacs, along with Makara, and had always been known for his perfectionism. Even now, Arthur could see the serpent space himself evenly across the wooden counter, as it gazed at the Cardinal sign with contempt.

_"Kumbha, why the hell are you here?" _Mesa grumbled while getting up to look at the zodiac with dislike_. "Did Makara and the others send you here_?" He asked bemused while pounding his hooves with pride for being asked to come back to the astral world.

_"When referring to Makara, Karka, and Tula – you should know to call them the Cardinals." _Kumbha replied rather furiously_. "Honestly, because you are one of them doesn't mean you should treat the others as inferiors." _He added while huffing.

Something hid behind both the zodiacs eyes as they glared at one another, before staring back at Arthur with a hidden truth. Mesa seemed like laughing as he held his mouth shut while Kumbha had a grave appearance, but remained silent as well.

Arthur didn't know why the zodiacs were taking place a strange conversation in front of him, but now was not the time. He was too much in love with being in love with Kiku to fully understand the situation the two zodiacs were trying to convey to him! He did not need the zodiacs right now; when he was sad or depressed he could summon them, but not _now_.

"If you two are here just to prattle, prattle somewhere else." Arthur tried to shoo them while Mesa sneered and Kumbha nodded with a rather sadness looming in his eyes.

The sadness and anger both emitting from the zodiacs resonated within the Englishman as he gazed into their eyes for a brief second while he turned around to ignore their feelings.

_"You don't need us, do you? You fucking bastard." _Mesa replied before disappearing without hearing Arthur's guilty response.

Kumbha also disappeared, and as soon as they vanished without hearing Arthur's apologies, Kiku returned with a sour smile escaping his face.

"My brother said he's busy; so maybe we can tell them tomorrow." The boy replied uneasily as he took him by the hand, and walked out of the shop.

It was an eerily quiet afternoon, much to Arthur's liking, and they found themselves in an awkward situation where the two could not even formulate a conversation due to their shyness.

"The coffee shop is losing some customers as of late…" The boy replied suddenly as they came across an intersection pointing at the lesser lines of the two story shop, and smiling with ease. "Some people are getting tired of the same beverages these days. Something supposedly happened to the owner of it from what I heard though." He continued on as they held hands uneasily while travelling back towards Arthur's apartment.

Many people began to stare at the awkward couple as they passed through the street all the more turning nervous around every corner.

"Mom, is that even _right_?" A boy asked as they passed by a mother and child while holding their hands firmly. A small remark escaped the mother's mouth as she tugged the boy away while glaring at the two as if they were utterly disgusting or deformed.

Kiku was fidgeting, and Arthur's palm was growing sweaty as they felt the uneasy stares gazing at them before the others began walking awkwardly themselves.

"A bunch of homos," said a teenage girl as they passed a vintage shop only to be laughed at as they left in a hurry. Kiku seemed tranquil even though, but Arthur could feel himself getting even more depressing.

He wasn't cut out for this! Honestly, just because he had survived years of bullying due to his 6th sense, did not mean he was experienced at feeling horrible!

The Briton straightened himself out as the Japanese let out a small cough while looking bashfully away from him.

What _was_ this feeling? Neither of them seemed like they accepted one another yet…and yet his heart was still screaming out for the boy.

He didn't know what to say or do as they held onto each other's hands a little tighter for comfort.

It was extremely aggravating to him as they remained silent while walking down the street. Honestly, what kind of couple were they? Was he _that_ shy? Arthur shook his head, they were both shy – and this was just…ugh!

Stopping across an intersection, the two realized that it was an eerily quiet roadway home.

_This is the time Alfred should be here_. Arthur told himself as they came across an empty street, and the people were no longer even visible to them as he turned his head around to find nothing but a blank stage of asphalt and a lonely looking chain of run down stores. "What the hell, this is like a movie." Arthur blanked out as he gazed at the sun setting down. "Where the hell is Alfred anyways?" He asked himself, before feeling Kiku tug at the sleeves of his arm with uneasiness.

"I-I…don't feel safe here." Replied the boy as they heard some strange movement coming from the alleyways.

A rustle of movement came from behind the trash cans and bags that littered the city with their ugly black plastic. A small ting of a glass bottle broke and jagged the side of the road as the material came rolling to their feet.

He could feel his heart racing as the footsteps began to become even more present through careful listening. The thump of his heart was beating in quick intervals, and he knew that that person coming after him.

"Where the hell are you, you bloody git?" He gritted his teeth as he took Kiku's hand and began running as fast as he could.

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The ghost stared at himself in the mirror, finally realizing who he _actually_ was. It was a shock to him, as he stared at the saddened expression he faced from the cracked mirror splitting his image.

"Why did it have to be this way?" He replied while staring at his shaking hands, and not before he started kneeling down and wailing like a lost child. "Why, why, why?" He repeated to himself but never gained any answer despite his want of it.

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They were running as fast as they could, and Arthur swore he knew who it probably was. It was probably that damned frog who wanted to tease him again for being both a freak of nature and a homo! Well hell with that, Arthur thought as they dashed in quicker paces while passing several broken down homes.

They were reaching the area in which he had first found that damned ghost, and he cursed as his mind started asking where the hell Alfred was, again. "Stop thinking about that idiot, stop thinking about him, damn it!" The Briton replied while the Japanese stared at him confused all the while following his figure.

"Come back!" The voice definitely belonged to that stupid idiot, and yet the tone of Francis' was a lot more serious than fun-making.

Arthur didn't care though – he continued to run.


	14. In Between

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Fourteen: **In Between

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**Author's Note: **A slightly more important chapter than the previous one. Sorry about that, I'm trying to make so many relationships _work_, so that it doesn't seem like I'm just skipping over everyone's feelings. Thank you for all the sudden boom of reviews I got lately, I'm promising myself I won't disappoint you guys! Until the end, please _read & review_!

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It was a steel colored sky that loomed over the city that day. The clouds were heavy, saturated, and filled to the brim with silver blue droplets that splattered on every corner of the town and every crevice of each paved sidewalk.

He was walking, was what he remembered, towards a new coffee store that had opened a few days ago.

He wore a nice gray coat that fell to his knees, and a nicely woven sweater along with an emerald striped scarf to match his dark skinny jeans. If he could remember well, he was carrying a raven colored umbrella patterned in plaid with a red design, his shoes were dark leather, and he wore a golden necklace tucked underneath his gray lace shirt while he smiled to himself in the rain's presence.

He absolutely loved the rain. It was like a moment of reprieve for him.

Taking a deep intake of fresh rain, the young Frenchman sighed as he thought of the _one _person who would hate this kind of weather.

He remembered how much he loved the rain, because he knew that Arthur hated it.

Laughing, Francis found the place where he should have been. His amethyst eyes twinkled as he rubbed his gruff chin with interest.

The new place certainly did seem appropriate for him to enter. It was all red brick, but there were these beautiful black barred windows, and an old fashioned sign that loosely hung around a leaf patterned handle. Up on the sign read the shop's title, _Rococo._

Ah, now this _interested_ him. It further lured him in as the name and definition itself came from a French art style. Francis smirked as he took one more glance at the store before walking straight ahead to it.

He had been told the coffee store had been rated very highly by even the most notorious judges. He had been told so much of the wonderful coffee, the charming owner, and even more on the owner's cute brother. And so, being a "well known" figure in the town, he believed that maybe checking out the new place would benefit him, despite everyone's warning on the older brother's attitude.

He never really knew how much everything would change after he opened that door to hear his first, heartwarming greeting.

"Nice to meet you," a voice so soft spoke to him as the golden bells rung a pretty song.

A fragile boy stood behind the counter while wearing the shop's red and white uniform, obviously embarrassed.

He was absolutely beautiful, was what Francis thought when both their eyes locked.

"What can I get you?" The boy leaned over, his golden hair flopping against the side of his pink pearl cheeks and Amethyst eyes glowing dimly behind clear glasses, despite the bright smile the man was trying to express. "Sir, is there anything you would like?" He asked again, even louder, as he felt himself being ignored.

A smile approached Francis' face as he came towards the counter to catch a glimpse of the man's golden plated tag. It read "Matthew" in black inked letters, and Francis' couldn't help but smile wider as he leaned against the counter and propped an elbow on the surface, to support his chin with his free palm.

"Nice to meet you too, Mathieu." He replied with a slur of French accent as he chose a random number on the menu behind the young man, all the while gazing at his purple pools.

"Erm, nice to meet you took," replied the American with unease as he squirmed in his position and decided to get to work on making the man's order.

He was clumsy in movement, it was pretty funny, but at the same time he held a certain grace whenever he held onto something. His grasp was hard on all the equipment he used; as if he was afraid to let go of them, and his purple eyes were focused on everything he did up until he finished the process.

Francis found the man alluring as he continued to breathe while staring at the creature near him.

He swore, the angle he was in made the poor boy look like an earth-bound angel; all the white light was floating around the American, and with a blink, he could tell that Matthew really was an angel…a very, beautiful one.

"Matthew, can you come here for a sec?" A voice, groggy and sad came from the other side of the room, and the Frenchman's thoughts were interrupted as he couldn't help but turn his head around to find a tall, slender man of the same face but different physique and style enter with a rugged look. "Something's wrong with the sink, I don't know what I did." Replied, what Francis assumed, the elder twin while ushering the younger one into the bathroom.

There were a few crashes going on, and a sudden frenzy of mumbled words, but once the younger one came out looking a bit teary – Francis knew something was going on between the two.

"Thanks." Replied the elder twin as he went back towards where the office was being held while taking one sluggish glance at him. Nodding slowly, the owner of the shop headed towards the second floor.

**----------------------------------------------------**

"You know, he's not always like that." Matthew smiles while they share a table while sipping a nice cup of green tea. "He's actually rather nice," he adds as he cushions the base of the cup with the tip of his pinky.

The conversation had begun when the Frenchman had spontaneously asked the youth to come with him and have a small break from his diligent work. It had been all very quiet until he introduced Alfred as a subject, and kind of, well, asked if his brother was always so grumpy.

Francis didn't know what to say, as he crossed one leg over the other while raising one perfect eye brow up with suspicion. Matthew didn't look at all fazed or uneasy with his sudden expression, but a flare of purple emerged out of those dim eyes as if he had been insulted.

"Honestly, Alfred is very sweet, kind and loving…" He drawled on while smiling rather dreamily. A small, honest grin formed on his plump limps, and as he lifted the cup back to taste the herbal beverage, he could sense Francis' eyes gazing up at him; following his every movement with protection.

"What about your brother?" Francis replied softly, "what is he really like?" He adds.

Matthew's eyes widen and with a small grin speaks about the man and how his brother was made to be an inventor. He had made so many new flavors, new technology not even in stores, even, and keeps talking about how his brother loved making things. Alfred was so intelligent despite his education, and yet his brother always had trouble conforming to other people; obeying to the higher ups and respecting the "good for nothing" coworkers.

That was his elder twin though; powerful and rebellious – that was Alfred.

"He's strong too, and his smile always makes my heart flutter whenever he has the time to grin it at me." He whispers, daydreaming.

"Do you…" The Frenchman seemed hesitant as he embraced both his hands with a tight grasp, "do you by chance _love_ your brother?" He replied softly, gazing at the American with some sort of jealousy.

It had become so quiet, and he, for once, seemed to regret asking such a blunt question at such a time.

"Yes. Yes I do." He could hear the soft whisper coming out from the young man's lips. "Wow, this tea tastes really good! And this place is so small, and everything is so very clean…" Matthew replied all too soon, as he stared at his empty cup with bewilderment while blushing scarlet as he tried to get the waiter's attention to order a slice of strawberry cake.

"From now on let's meet here instead." He smiles while battering his eyes with a little timid joy lurking about him.

**----------------------------------------------------**

"You're such a bad kisser, Mathieu." Francis laughed as he pulled away from an embrace, and kissed the young man's forehead. "Someone ought to teach you how to kiss…" He whispered with a kind seduction, as he pressed both their foreheads together.

Staring into one another's eyes, the American smiled bashfully while holding onto his hands with a fragile grasp. "Who is going to teach me how to kiss?" He teased while pressing the Frenchman's cheek delicately with his index finger.

**----------------------------------------------------**

"Where did you come from, again?" Francis questioned as they lay on top of a bare hill, gazing at the blue filled sky with silence.

It was a late afternoon, so the sky was slowly fading into a deep red and people were already heading back home, carrying groceries and laughing while making jokes and perverted thoughts.

The city was growing a lot quieter, and the two found it almost peaceful to fall asleep alongside the hilly area, but there was some intense atmosphere around them, something keeping them awake – as they gazed at the sky pulling unto a cobalt shade.

"Three towns over in a place called Dale," Answered the boy while coughing up a little, probably due to the cold he was ready to get.

"Is it a big town?" Francis asked, gazing at those amethyst pools glimmer with thought.

"Not really – well, it was a lot bigger than this…but everyone still _knew_ each other." He responded, reaching one hand up as if he were to touch the sky, while having the other arm lazily behind his head.

"What made you choose to move here, may I ask?" He continued asking so many questions, wanting to know every bit of the American's life to recover everything he wasn't part of in Matthew's world while at the same time his eyes roamed around the sky to distract himself from the breathing body next to him.

"Business," was the last response he got, as the boy feigned his sleep to end the conversation.

**----------------------------------------------------**

"Who is Arthur Kirkland?" Matthew asked him one day as they enjoyed a banana split; whilst they sat outside on his patio.

His patio was a bright, perfect white designed with various cross and floral patterns. Various styles ranging from French art to new modern day cuts were present in the garden looming beyond their view.

A range of blue to red flowers faded into a nice shade as they made their own natural pattern all the while making every view beautiful.

The young boy had been getting a lot of days off lately despite his brother's demands, and Francis was rather glad to have let the boy into his home instead of watch him work all day; in fact, he was filled with joy to see the young man at his place other than the tea shop or coffee store.

But this question…it was rather abrupt, and it made him nearly spit out the strawberry and banana contents of the ice cream.

"W-why do you want to know who he is?" His face turned red as he began to take a napkin from a holder while patting the soft fabric unto the silk cloth lying on the table.

A chuckle escaped from the American's lips as he stared softly into his eyes.

"I've been hearing lots of things about him lately from Alfred." He retorted while biting his lower lip as he began to tell of all of the jokes his brother was able to make about the strange, "heavy brow" man.

Honestly, Francis laughed so hard, his eyes were tearing up quickly at Alfred's descriptions and fantasy stories about the "legendary man."

The one with the stupid unicorn almost made his heart knot up as he held his stomach while uncharacteristically howling in response to Matthew's imitated jokes.

"But, that's not how I see Arthur Kirkland, though." The timid voice suddenly bloomed out of thin air, and the Frenchman had to look up at the young man while wiping the tears in wonder. "To me, he has something I've always wanted…" Matthew replied as he blushed a bright pink.

"And what would that be?" Was Francis' curious tone, as he clenched his fist into a tight ball while leaning forward to listen to Matthew's soft response.

"That magical quality he has with him…" He replied turning a deep red, while he tried laughing his sentence off.

"And why is that?"

The American turned to face him with a direct gaze, and a composed mouth.

"At least he has someone with him until forever." He whispered, gazing far into the distance of the flower field.

Francis remained silent while he tried keeping himself from frowning.

He could tell whenever Matthew was sad; he had been so long with the man, a record 5 months, and yet…he never could understand why Matthew was so depressed.

It made him hurt inside.

"You know, when my brother and I were small, we believed in magic." Matthew replied while turning a further shade of red; ignoring Francis' figure.

"I still believe in it."

Francis didn't know what to say. He was always making fun of Arthur about magic, and yet here was the one person he loved, cherished, the most who spoke of magic as fond of as Arthur Kirkland, himself.

The French gazed at the boy with no words escaping his mouth, earning a chuckle from the American as he pressed their foreheads together, again.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Matthew whispered, his breath softly tickling Francis' face as he laughed kindly at him.

The Frenchman nodded absentmindedly as he felt the warm breath touch his face.

"Can you introduce him to me?" The boy smiled gently while kissing the tip of his nose.

"Of course, I know him quite well…" Francis couldn't help but smile as they both gave each other one more kiss before it rung noon.

"Can I ask you one more favor?" The boy asked once more, while biting his lower lip to prevent from laughing too hard.

A manicured eyebrow rose in interest, "yes?"

"Will you promise to stop making fun of him?" He asked, gazing at him with a stubborn look. "I heard from Alfred you were one of them making fun of that poor man." He whispered, before kissing him on the forehead – finally leaving the Frenchman as one minute passes.

"Sure…"

**----------------------------------------------------**

"You're brother is hurting you, isn't he?!" Francis hollered as he pushed the fragile American against the sturdy wall of his home; gazing at the boy with an equally intense stare as the smaller one tried to glare back.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?" The Frenchman hissed as he pushed the younger one farther into the wall; swearing that if the boy wouldn't answer soon he would make a hole in the house and literally crush the boy's bones himself it they weren't already badly bruised.

He pulled one of Matthew's sleeves away from the boy's hands, staring at the bare arm with hatred as he gazed at a blotch of purple and red on his pale flesh. "You should have told me what was going on." He whispered darkly, gazing back into the man's trembling purple eyes. "You're brother is a good for nothing, piece of trash – why don't you report him already?! It's been going on TOO LONG!" He hollered, screaming all his might at the boy before feeling a stinging sensation ringing across his face.

He remembered first laying eyes on a bruise that Alfred had given Matthew; he was unsteady with it despite Matthew's pleading to ignore it. He remembered how the second time, anger was swelling deep within his chest – and yet Matthew still asked him to be peaceful. He remembered how the third time Matthew was crying on the floor, and yet he still asked him to remain quiet.

But now….this time…it was just too much for his heart to bear.

"You," pointed the blond with a fury he had never seen before light up in those kind eyes. "_Never_ speak of my brother that way, _never_, do you hear me?" Matthew unrolled his sleeve, and gazed back at him with a temporary glance. "A piece of trash….? He is none of the sort!" He defended his brother with a dying will as he began crying hot tears.

"Alfred is a **kind, charming, intelligent** man that you will _never_ become!"

Those words crushed him, and Francis could feel a swirl of feelings ring through his head, and most importantly against his heart.

And with that, Matthew slammed the door shut in front of him.

They never spoke again, and never saw each other again until the crash.

"Come back, come back…" He whispered while staring at the closed door in front of him.

**----------------------------------------------------**

"Come back!!!" Francis shouted, staring at the running figures of Kiku and Arthur flee back to the village area of the apartment complex. "Come back…" He whispered, eyes staring up at the wide sky; looking almost defeated before he trudged on.

"Mathieu…I can feel it…it's going to rain, won't it?" He whispered awfully quiet despite his loud nature.


	15. Paradox

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Fifteen: **Paradox

**------------------------------------------------**

**Author's Notes:** This will be the confusing part, I'm sorry – but there were no other words I can manipulate or describe it as – but I hope that the next chapter will make things clearer for all of you! Thank you, once again, and please _read & review!_

**------------------------------------------------**

He didn't think he should have deserved to live, and yet, here he was facing the mirror with a heart broken gaze fixing his eyes on a crack running in the middle of it. Here he was standing tall, and lanky – gazing at himself with depression, while thinking to himself – how did he end up like this? Why did he survive? Why was he a ghost? What did he do to ever deserve this?

He knew he couldn't get any answers, and yet he demanded for one. He needed one! Why in the world was he in such a state? Why was he the one chosen to breathe in a different world and not his brother?

His beloved brother…

His brother could have at least have had one last breath, one last intake of the beautiful world, one last view of how life could have been before dying, and yet…he was the one to unconsciously live. He was the one to live life, again.

He could _feel_ his heart thumping in an incredible rate, and he could actually feel its beat thump in agonizing tones as he began flipping his curly blond strands with his frail fingers.

His hands were shaking as he gazed pitifully at the pallid flesh he bore. His eyes dimmed, while staring hatefully at his own skin, feeling his own heart, and hearing his own thoughts in his own head.

He lived. That was the only truth he needed to know to break down.

He, Matthew, lived.

It was never Alfred. It was never him.

It was never his beloved brother.

It was no wonder every dream he had revolved around Alfred, it was no wonder the reason why his ghost, Alfred, chose not to sleep was because the ghost was so afraid to dream of those nightmares and chose to watch the moon instead of dreaming. He was afraid of the dreams. Because in the dreams, it was him, because in those dreams…it was Matthew he had been looking through the eyes of.

He had been Alfred…

It was all so confusing – here he was, a ghost, and yet before he was Alfred's ghost too. He was Alfred in disguise and for some reason yet known to himself.

"Why was it me, Alfred, why?" Matthew's purple eyes stared back into the broken mirror, searching for an answer, glistening with fresh tears ready to spill. "I was so much more useless than you." He inhaled while letting out a painful wail.

His voice echoed throughout the hallway as he slammed his head against the cool glass; feeling nothing, but his own headache as he gazed back at the slammed mirror.

Despite his grown knowledge, the younger twin stared remorsefully at himself; his legs were behaving like jelly and he could feel himself fall despite his ability to fly. He could see himself grow even paler, despite his transparent skin, and he could still feel his heart despite his condition.

"Look, it, looks like it's about to rain…" He hears a voice, so familiar ring from outside, and yet Matthew chooses not to hear it. "Come on Kiku, I think we lost him…we can stay in here for a while, it looks like it'll thunder a little." Arthur's voice booms with excitement and concern as the door creaks open.

Footsteps trod from below, and a small shuffle of movement could be heard despite their best to be silent.

"Why was it me, Alfred?" The ghost whispered, feeling the chilly air surrounding him – caving him – inside the small interior space. His flesh was getting goose bumps, and he could feel that odd sensation prickle his cold skin – making him breathe harsher.

"It's oddly cold inside this place, Arthur-san." The other voice echoed gently from below him, and yet Matthew chose to ignore it.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry! Here take my jacket…" The Englishman murmured embarrassed, interrupting Matthew's train of thought as the ghost crouched down in the farthest corner of the room.

He was shivering furiously despite the gentle coolness inside the house. It wasn't _that_ cold, and yet his mouth was chattering quickly as he tried to embrace himself, only finding his hands slip through suddenly.

"Why?"

"_You and I, we have to stick together, __**forever**__, okay?" A young Alfred stares back at him, while crouching down and hugging his knees with his bruised arms. "Since mom's not here anymore, we have to be there for one another, okay?" He replied happily while standing up and lending him a hand. "I'll always be there. I promise." He replied with a voice filled with determination, and eyes full to the brim with confidence._

A flash of memory sparked through his mind and no longer then a few seconds' later tears started to flow rapidly across his cheeks.

_"Shhh, why are you crying so early in the morning?" Alfred whispered while gazing at his brother with a little discomfort. He shuffled beside his twin, while enveloping his long arms around his neck. "You don't need to cry, I'm here." He replied exhaustively as he nuzzled his chin against his blonde head._

_"Shhh, I'm here…"_

"Oh God….please…why?"

**------------------------------------------------**

He didn't know what was unsettling to him, but as soon as he felt that cold shiver up his spine, he immediately felt like something or someone was up there, on the second floor.

It was a rather depressing aura that engulfed the ancient house, and Arthur could feel his skin form goose bumps as he tried to keep his bare arms warm from the enticing chill.

Kiku was sitting on the other side of the table they had found, and was keeping himself warm at the time with Arthur's jacket. The small Japanese man looked very fragile to Arthur as he let out a terrible whimper while clad in his rather huge coat.

"Something doesn't feel right in here." Kiku murmured, holding himself while shaking back and forth in order to keep himself from growing insane.

There was some aura that was feeding onto his own happy moments, and just like that the Japanese man wanted to cry so much as he held himself even tighter while chanting some unknown, foreign command.

"It's coming from upstairs." The Japanese man whispered with a weak voice, as his brown eyes wandered towards the second floor with worry. Arthur's own eyes travelled up towards the familiar stairs, and as soon as his eyes stopped at the same door he met Alfred, he found himself walking up towards the storage room.

His knees felt tight, they felt buckled, and stuck on the floor as he took every step to get nearer towards that door.

His heart was fluttering, beating with uneven intervals as his breathing grew harsh and his emerald eyes glistened with a profound understanding. He gulped, inhaled, exhaled, and let out a frustrated sigh as he found his body moving more sluggish; and he found his heart quickly pattering.

Something behind that door told him Alfred was in there, and yet, it seemed so wrong to move up and open that door he didn't know what to do when he landed on the last step.

_"What are you waiting for?" _Vrscika, the Scorpio, replied with a stubborn tone. "_You want to take a look yourself, and yet you stopped. What is making you so foolish as to stop?" _He seethed while crawling quickly beside the Briton. _"Are you afraid to see who is beyond the door?"_ He whispered, coal black eyes darting his way as if the zodiac was testing him. _"Go on; see who is beyond that door…It will not hurt you." _He replied nonchalantly.

Vrscika, the Scorpio, was one of the harshest Zodiacs out of all twelve signs. He was notorious for his rude, blunt remarks – but he could be very kind. Unlike the usual scorpion, Vrscika had an armored plate colored of silver-blue, and eyes of steel red.

"Y-You don't understand, it's so hostile – I can feel the energy pass beside me even now!" The Briton's eyes were blotching into a pink color as tears began to prick on the corner of them.

He didn't know why he was crying, and yet it felt like it was the appropriate time to cry as he gazed pathetically at the scorpion who stared back at him with an even stare.

_"I have known you for over twenty years, and you think I will not know who will harm you or not?" _He replied with a curious gaze that nearly threatened the Briton as he pointed his stinger at him with annoyance.

_"Now, now, Vrscika, don't behave in such an awful manner…" _Arthur's head turned around to find another Zodiac gazing at him with a smile. _"It has been a long time, darling…Very long indeed." _Kanya, the Virgo, grinned at him prettily as she tossed her white curly hair with fondness.

The other sign of Zodiacs, Kanya, was the most loveable of the zodiacs aside from the bubbly Mina. Kanya was indeed very beautiful for the sign of Virgo, and she was always kind and unbiased, and saw things in a different light. She was one of the most lenient out of all zodiacs.

"Kanya…what are you doing here?" Arthur stuttered turning deep scarlet as he gazed at the gorgeous zodiac come up to him.

_"We're here to support you." _She replied with a firm smile cross her face, though something was written in her eyes – it was a mixture of sadness and excitement, but for some reason Arthur could only see the sadness more.

_"Get on, go." _Vrscika replied rather bored while pointing at the stairs. _"Just don't regret going up there_." He added suddenly, while the Briton found his eyes set on the brass door knob.

Kanya was scolding Vrscika in the background, as Arthur pondered on how to react after opening the door.

A winter chill escaped from the other side of the room, and the Briton shivered in so many different levels it was hard to describe the sudden feeling blooming inside of him.

"A-Alfred?" The Briton replied bashfully, feeling the same aura as Alfred.

**------------------------------------------------**

It was like a crack of light, as the door creaked open revealing that one person he wanted to meet ever since.

Matthew gazed at the figure loom on the other side of the room; his dark shadow hovering over his ghostly form with dominance.

Purple eyes met with green, for a temporary moment – and all of a sudden, the Briton's mouth widened with complete confusion as no words came out of it.

Purple shade turned to Sapphire blue eyes, all of a sudden.

"A-Alfred what are you doing in there?" He asked, taking the ghost's arms with a strong sense of confidence. And the ghost blinked at him, confused. "Come on, I was looking all over for you." Arthur lied, staring deep into those blue-shaded eyes with a worried gaze. "Kiku is downstairs too." He explained, his heart thumping in a synchrony as he closed his eyes to breathe.

He had found Alfred.

"Hey, yeah sorry…" Alfred replied softly, gazing away from the Briton with a saddened expression ruining his appearance.

His golden hair flopped over to one side, as he let out a depressed pout. He looked so pitiful, it made Arthur almost laugh as he tugged the ghost back into his arms.

"I'm just glad I found you." He whispered, while looking back into the ghost's clear sky blue eyes. "I was worried, you know?" He added, turning scarlet while feeling the coolness of the ghost's flesh.

"Yeah…I'm sorry…" The American replied quietly, bangs shading over his eyes as he bit his lower lip in contemplation.


	16. The Art of Being

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Sixteen: **The Art of Being

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

**Author's Note: **I am very depressed, I got the worse college grade ever so far – and now I'm really disappointed at myself, especially since I've been getting straight A's so far. I mean, seriously? That D was all of a sudden! I studied hard too! I guess I have more learning to do, and I admit that. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter though – I'll be studying harder for biology so I might not finish the story in time! I hope you _read & review _though!

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

Arthur was in an unbelievably good mood today, and Alfred found it quite amusing whenever he spoke of how happy he was, whenever he smiled, whenever he batted his eye lashes with fancy, because honestly, it was rare for the Briton to daydream and smile so funnily in front of him.

The Briton was in such a high spirit, it only made the ghost want to be happy for him than be depressed over his newfound knowledge. It made him so relieved for the Briton to finally have some support other than himself despite the pain that swallowed up inside him. "So, are you and Kiku official?" The American asked as he hovered close to the couch, finding it too hard to solidify and sit on the furniture.

In fact, just hovering, almost took all of his energy – he was slowly finding himself sluggish in effort, and slow in responding whenever he tried to do something he wanted to, and yet it was a good thing Arthur hadn't noticed. It would make Arthur suspicious and concern, and he didn't want the rarity of the Briton's happiness to suddenly vanish – it was just too rude to!

Arthur, in fact, fortunately, was too busy repeating his day, and fuming about Wang and how the lazy git wouldn't automatically approve of his and Kiku's relationship to notice his strange behavior, but there was something in the pit of his stomach that told him Arthur had some sort of hint there was something going on about him.

"I mean, it's just me – what's wrong with _me_ anyways?" Asked the Briton rather edgily as he shuffled on his seat while gazing hard at the daily newspaper lying on his coffee table. "There is another accident, again." He whispered off the topic and flipped through the entertainment page.

"Well, time will only tell." Alfred muttered, smiling at the Briton with a strange sensation, a strange voice, and a strange new light shining in his deep blue pools. Alfred purposely chose to ignore the car accident incident, and only kept them back to the subject of Kiku despite all the gloominess it gave him.

There was that thing again, that _thing_ that was keeping Alfred from saying anything to him, and yet…Arthur still couldn't develop that courage to ask what the ghost was hiding.

"Is there…anything you need to tell me?" The dirty blonde asked, green eyes glaring at the floor, as he for the first time, felt a heavy guilt weigh upon him with the way Alfred was staring at him.

This took the American aback, and the smile wiped onto the American's face vanished as he stared away from the Briton with a feigned chuckle. "No…I don't think there is any help I could get." He replied softly, gazing at the man with an even stare.

Arthur took one glance at those vibrant blue eyes, only finding them dim without a hopeful light.

"Oh. I see."

The conversation ended too quickly despite both the painful aches in their heart.

The silence was unbearable to the both of them, but especially Alfred who had so many things to tell the man and yet knew that revealing his newfound knowledge would only cause the man to be either angry or sad.

He didn't want any of that – besides, what could Arthur do once he left him? He was a ghost, a spirit; he had nothing left to offer the world. Nothing left, absolutely nothing left.

"Well, Kiku and I…we're going to the library tomorrow, so you can just stay home." The Briton heaved the conversation from the dark abyss and let out a timid smile as he spoke about his plans, but all Alfred did was ignore all that babbling nonsense and stare straight into his green, hazy eyes.

"Unless you want to come…" Arthur replied silently, gripping onto his arms as he felt the strange cold enter his own home.

"I'd like that…" The ghost replied with his own timid smile forming onto his crestfallen face.

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

He didn't know what was bothering him, but the fact that Alfred agreed to go with him to the library surprised the Briton to no end as he and his boyfriend walked in the deserted area.

Alfred was being suspiciously quiet, and for some reason Arthur wanted to hear the happiness in the American's voice, and yet every time he spoke to the American nothing but a tone of sadness tinged his hearing.

"Are you alright?" Kiku was beside him as they stopped at the Fiction aisle. The Japanese man had finally let go of his hand, while choosing a random book from its seam and opening it very carefully with his gentle touch.

Arthur didn't know what to say, and Kiku honestly knew that the Briton wasn't at all in a good mood despite the feigned smiles he tried to conjure up on himself.

"Do you want to go home? I wouldn't want you to be sick because of me…" The raven haired man replied softly while placing the book back onto the shelf and coming towards the Briton with a worried look.

The first thing he did was press their foreheads together, and the Briton found himself bleeding red on the face as he felt the warm rush of Kiku's flesh touch his own.

Unsurprisingly, Kiku was blushing furiously as well – trying all his best to act normally under the situation they were in.

"I-I'm fine, I came here with you to look up things!" He protested while laughing strangely and pushing the Japanese lightly away with an amusing gleam in his green eyes. "I'm just…sleepy, that's all." His poor excuse seemed proficient for the Japanese man to comply and resume his own business.

"Just tell me when you want to go home, okay?" The boy murmured, grabbing another book while looking at the contents of its pages.

Arthur nodded absentmindedly while travelling around the aisles searching for his own favorite genre shelf.

Turning various corners of the library and passing by the formidable romance section, the young Briton stopped in front of the "Others" shelf, and gazed at all of its contents. He had read most of the books about werewolves and other nonsense, but he had particularly liked the last book he chose consisting of spirits and natural ghosts.

Scanning around, reading the titles on the binders of the books, Arthur stooped down to the lowest part of the shelf and gazed at one particular book bounded in a fashionable leather but without any title.

Blinking he decided to take a look at it, and once taking it from its hold, the Englishman heard a large thump across the room.

"I'm okay!" Alfred's voice echoed throughout the silent habitation, and Arthur sighed with annoyance while tucking the brown book under his arms.

Honestly, what was Alfred doing making such a mess in such an antique place?

He strode over to where he heard the sound, skipping Kiku who was piling up his bag with a couple of romance novels and staring at the "Manga" section with a forbidden interest.

Taking one last turn, he found the ghost gazing at the Children's area, staring at the book he had once held the last time they came over.

He was so deeply entranced at the short story; he hadn't noticed Arthur blinking in obvious suspicion while circling around him and the novel in his hands.

"What were you doing?" Arthur's annoyed voice suddenly piped up, and the cloudy haze of blue blinked back a clearer sapphire. "What is all this mess? And why are you looking at that book so much?" The Englishman sighed pointing at all the obvious piles of cluttered novels around the American.

Alfred had a hard time reaching the highest shelf, who knows why they placed a book for kids over there, and he had a very difficult time in floating about; therefore he did all his best – jumping and actually knocking over the whole shelf, itself spilling all the novels about his feet.

"I just…like this book." The American defended while softly touching the exterior of the cover and staring at the contents of the title page with adoration written in his eyes.

Arthur let out a small frown as he passed by the American and began collecting the various Child's play novels into his arms. Gathering as much as he could, the Briton started stuffing the books in no order, while staring quietly at the American who seemed entranced by that single story.

"…Does it have anything to do about your past?" The Englishman asked, gazing at the American with a steady voice despite his downcast eyes. The American's feet shuffled, and he had just noticed that Alfred had been wearing a nice pair of leather shoes. The ghost's feet were moving about, and unbeknownst to him, until he looked up, Alfred gazed at him with a kind smile and shining bright eyes.

"…Yeah, I think…It was my favorite book…" He replied turning a bright pink as he stuffed the book under his own arms, and gazed away obviously embarrassed.

Arthur stared at the man with a quiet acknowledgement as he stared at the brown leathered book under his own arm, before commanding that they go before it rained, again, like yesterday.

"Are you ready to go back?" Kiku's voice echoed as he stared at Arthur from across the room; gazing with a soft smile spreading across his pacified face. The Briton nodded, taking the others arm all the while staring back at the ghost next to him. Alfred was so tall, he just realized it.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…"

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

Alfred had been acting so strange as soon as he found him again; it was disappointing Arthur whenever the American intentionally tried to avoid him in his own house, or whenever Alfred decided to feign his own sleep to avoid any further conversations.

Today was no exception, it had been at least three hours since they had left the library and Kiku had left to go back home.

Arthur found Alfred absolutely no where, but he snorted, why should he care if the ghost didn't even want to talk to him?

Instead the Briton stared at the leather bound book on his desk with an excited interest. He knew it was probably stupid to not have looked on what the book was about, but for some reason he found it more appealing if he just opened it and found out what the subject really was because it was rare for a book to have no title on the front of the page.

He was for some reason becoming so drawn to the title, that he just had to take it with him!

Turning the cover over, and finding the first part of the page, it read in black, beautiful, calligraphic font, "The Art of Being" and the Briton seemed baffled at the title. Under the title was a subtitle, "Ghosts, Spirits, and _Humans_." Now that interested him, especially because of the noun "humans" who was rarely talked about in other fantasy books or "others" genres he had seen so far.

_"Oh, I see you've found it!"_Makara replied a little bit weary as he took a seat next to the Briton who stared at him unexpectedly. _"It's a very rare book; you see….It was written by someone like you…about…somewhat like Mr. Alfred." _He stated calmly as he crossed his hooves together and stared rather excitedly for its content. _"I've been very interested in this novel, but I forgot where I and the other Cardinal signs put it…" _He smiled amusingly as the Briton glared at him for hiding such an important novel away from him.

"What do you mean about someone like me And someone like Alfred?" He asked while turning a bright beet red, as he stared at the front page with a new light of interest. The Capricorn just stared at him before blinking rather nervously.

_"You see…I can't really help you out…until you actually know what you're in." _He replied with such a confusing statement, honestly, Makara was never the sort to be so complex like this!

"Do you know what Alfred is?" The Briton turned the first leaf of paper and gazed at Chapter One with a guarded look.

When no reply came, he turned to his side – finding no one beside him. "Damn."

It was getting cold, again.

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

Alfred's teeth were chattering as he climbed towards the attic, feeling at peace when there was barely any light cascading inside. He pulled his clothes towards him even more tightly, as he crouched down, shivering while letting out a whimper of discomfort as he stared at nothing but his feet.

He was gaining a headache, he was getting even colder, and he could literally see the veins inside him signifying his disability to both solidify to touch objects and people, and his growing fading of his life.

"Damn, I didn't think I could die twice." The ghost grumbled desolately as he rocked himself back and forth while clenching his teeth together in disdain.

Lately his body had been reacting very peculiar after Arthur had touched him. First of all it was a heavy task to try and solidify, second of all he could barely touch the floor lest he tried hovering an inch apart, and lastly…even the sun was bugging him, annoying him, and burning his so called "skin."

It was like he was just a newborn ghost, unready for the world as it torturously seared his flesh with a bright, hopeful, ray of light.

The American gazed away looking in pain as he tried calming his nerves and as he tried distracting himself from the obvious hurt.

"Oh God, oh God…just please…please…."

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

"Well the first chapter was a total, time waster." Arthur retorted with an angry voice as he flipped to the second chapter after reading nonsense about the author's ridiculous life story. Honestly, he couldn't care less whether or not the young man had seen a Sprite; in fact, Arthur found it ridiculous how he debated whether or not Sprites exist! The Briton had seen over a hundred different kinds, and the young author had the audacity to debate whether or not they're real!?

He had half the mind to put the book down, but Makara's words just kept him on the borderline to continue on with this stupid novel.

_"Damn, never thought you could be so impatient with a book like this!" _Mesa reappeared from nowhere while gazing at the contents of the second page with lighted interest. _"Oh yeah, I remember this part! This was like...Stupid." _He retorted, discouraging the Briton from looking at the story even further. _"I mean…no wait, It was okay….just continue reading_." The zodiac was out of place as he stared at the Briton with narrowing eyes.

_"It will come in handy_."

With a sigh, and a half-hearted determination, the young Englishman decided to at least try finishing the first three chapters before discarding the dim-witted book.

Turning the page, it read out in blue and silver font – "What is _not _a Ghost."

Arthur blinked in surprised, and knew that this could help him out but turned around all of a sudden to find Mesa gone as well.

"Stupid zodiacs, and there dumb vanishing acts." The Briton mumbled under his breath while receiving a 'hey!' from a lazy Mesa on the other side of the world.

_Hello there, sorry if I have seemed to annoy you with my autobiography chapter but it was requested by my editor in order to complete the process of publication. Anyways, enough with my apologies, this chapter was very difficult to have written, but after five years of studying I've been able to come up with some hypothesis about what should make up a Ghost and what is definitely not a ghost like behavior._

_First of all you have to understand, that a ghost is a spirit, person, any living being that had recently passed away. When I write about recently, the range from years at most should be at least 50. With my better understanding, the ghosts I have met so far or have been "seen" to have met have all records not exceeding this limit. It's a strange trait; however, but I can't find any other proof or evidence besides my own. Dr. Miller is trying to find out whether or not this limit could be exceeded, but I have low hopes about that and doubt it based on my findings._

_Anyways, you probably think I'm a loser by now, but the sight to see spirits such as these spectacular creatures is a gift from nature itself. My friend and I have found that only one out of two million people hold this gift, through survey – of course, it could prove false since I'm pretty sure some people feigned their ability to see the natural spirits. The survey, through the "normal" people's eyes, seemed like a joke in their perspective. But this is a possible assumption, to say the least._

_If you are one of these curious people, bestowed a power of natural insight and such, then I guess you've found the right book! Dr. Miller thinks that this book won't go anywhere, but I'm sure it will attract some people's attention…or better yet, some_thing's_ attention. Anyways let's get onto business!_

_What makes up a ghost is hard to determine, especially with _fake ghosts_, honestly, if you don't know what a fake ghost is then I'll explain later about it, but let's just get straight through to the point of what ghost's really are._

_Ghosts can never exceed the limit of 50 years from what I understand, it's impossible for them to exceed this year limit, first of all, because from what I believe their Calling Period doesn't take longer than more than 50 years. From what I suspect, the _Calling Period_ is like a temporary moment of reprieve from the person's, things, creature's body. The noun is split from the body, and allowed a time limit to stay away from it, but from what I suspect the _Calling Period_ is a little deeper, but I haven't found any meaning to that yet._

_You would ask who would like to do this, but I'm pretty sure that most nouns do not prefer to stay away from their body for too long. With that, I investigated some hospitals nearby, and studied fresh, dead bodies…_

_What intrigued me was that, only a select few become ghosts. It's strange, really. _

_From my understanding a ghost is only conjured up whether or not they have some unsettled business or regret._

_So you can say that they're some sort of spirit that once to complete something before their Calling Period finishes._

_So from what we have here, the ghost cannot exceed more than 50 years of its Calling Period, the ghost should be obviously able to hover (A Fake Ghost will have issues with this), and obviously cannot truly touch things, move things, etc. In fact, the only mobility for a ghost excluding the ability to "fly" is the performance to control other people's bodies. And when I mean other people, I'm talking about living beings. No, such thing as controlling a dead body – the functions of the body no longer work, and I find it amusing when a ghost tries to control something that can no longer perform well._

_Anyways, these are the basic things, about what makes up a ghost, but the real chapter is what does __**not**__ make a ghost._

_I wrote about _Fake Ghosts _beforehand, so I guess I'll explain what they are now._

_Fake Ghosts, have the meaning in their name. They're nouns split away from their body, but they're not really dead at all. In fact, some people have special capabilities in becoming _Fake Ghosts_; they have some strange link to the Astral World, and such. When I'm talking about the Astral World, I hope you, the reader, know what I'm talking about. If not, you have a long way to go!_

_The Astral World sounds like what it really is! It's another world parallel to ours, I know this for a fact because I've met rather fond creatures ranging from the Western Zodiacs to the Chinese Astral Signs – they are all competent creatures and far exceed humanity's knowledge. I find it amusing and wonderful to have met them._

_If you have not yet, then I suggest you calling their names out!_

_In the Annex of this novel I have enclosed all their names and what each ruling planet is. I suspect that whatever sign you are under you have the best link with. _

_But let's get back, rather than getting sidetracked, A Fake Ghost, is a person in a ghostly form, but undead. When I mean undead, you can basically say it's a _coma.

_Comas are important things to keep in mind, since it's basically like a state of death already._

_Now, if you really want to know what a Fake Ghost is you have to pay careful attention through observation._

_A Fake ghost is transparent, and a real one is not at all, you can literally see their veins appearing from under their flesh. Their flesh is really cold, colder than a Ghost's! Dr. Miller assumes that it's because the Fake Ghost is away from his Host Body, _his original body_, and has several issues due to the unbalance of life teetering from the Host Body to the Ghostly Form. In other words, energy is being transmitted to both bodies, but since the Host body is more important, the Ghostly Form is left out from the equation; therefore the flesh of a Fake Ghost is unexpectedly freezing._

_I think the most obvious observation; however, is if the fake ghost does not like going under the sunlight._

_Ghosts, people claim, only appear at night, but I'm aware that they can also appear in the morning, evening, whatever time of day! They're just hard to find, even for us natural born! So I guess, you can doubt me…_

_But a Fake Ghost is perceptible if it does not want to go under the sunlight. In fact, sunlight is one reason why many can't find the rare species. For a ghost under sunlight, is a deep penetrating pain that pierces through their skin._

_If it's either from the discomfort of warmth or just a natural phenomenon on their part, I still can't decide._

_One thing important though is that, their _Calling Period_ can take as long as their coma is in effect. If you have a Fake Ghost, and you see them randomly blinking I am sure that they're ridding of their coma soon and that you should-_

Arthur dropped the book.

**-----------------------------------------------------------**

Alfred gazed uncomfortably as he flipped through the pages of the story with the cute puppy. He groaned while touching his forehead, and let out pained cry as he tried desperately to keep himself sane. "No worries, I'm almost done. I'm almost done." He chanted to himself, trying to bring the confidence he had lost too long ago.


	17. Warmth

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Seventeen: **Warmth

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**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay guys, I have like two quizzes next week – so I took my time in writing especially since I was busy last week. Hopefully this chapter will interest you again? _Read & Review_, please! :D

**--------------------------------------------------**

Now that he thought about it, it was the beginning of autumn. It was the start of a new, colorful season and the commencement of Death in the old mythologies.

It was amazing how he had never noticed the variety of colors blossoming from the dying trees and bushes. A wide range of scarlet to gentle amber nearly filled all the crags of the sidewalks and lavishly played alongside the branches of withering trees. He never really thought about it until now, no, he never really thought about how beautiful fall was not even before his own bereavement.

Alfred stayed inside the attic, shivering, while gazing at the outdoors with his hands quite snug under his chest. His sapphire eyes, still as summer bright, scanned the outside of Arthur's apartment, as he let out a cold sigh from under his breath, shaking with fervor as he tried to maintain a calm appearance.

Lately, his heart was beginning to pound terribly hard against his chest. He could feel his breath loosening as his glasses fogged up, and damn, was he getting colder! It was like he was literally freezing to death; and he'd rather die through a car crash rather than being numb all throughout his body! Honestly, two deaths? Really, he didn't need another one.

Chattering his lips together, the American stared remorsefully at the floor underneath him. He heard some object fall, a huge thud seemed to have struck the kitchen floor, and Arthur had pushed his chair and was now impatiently walking across the room.

He could tell. He knew Arthur; he could tell what that young man was doing through sound. He just knew him.

Arthur was still down stairs, it had been an hour or two since they last spoke – and yet there was something bothering the ghost as he stared below him, feeling Arthur's every movement as the young Englishman travelled from the living room back to the Kitchen in an even, steady pace.

The Briton was probably thinking something, assumed the ghost, as he let out a tired smile while gazing gently towards where he thought he felt Arthur stand below him. He could literally feel the gentleman's aura, seeping quite nicely from the ground to him. "I wonder if he figured it out." He whispered inaudibly, his hand hovering quite close to his heart feeling ready for some sort of heart attack despite not knowing whether or not ghosts could have those.

"Damn!" He heard the Briton curse after hearing a huge object crack and fall from some high area. The Briton was now scrambling to clean, what Alfred thought, was a vase, the very one on the fireplace, that white one with blue petal designs, and the Englishman was cursing all the while, cursing and stuttering incoherent words.

Alfred chuckled, whilst he laid his head against the wall paneling of the ceiling. He laughed hard, while clutching onto his stomach, tears escaping from his eyes as his face turned a strange pink.

"Damn…" He could hear Arthur reply softly, while throwing away the vase pieces into the trash and closing it hastily before, Alfred could feel it, his eyes wandered towards the attic.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Arthur didn't know what to say to Alfred – he was terribly excited to tell him of the good news; that the ghost was not indeed a real one, and that in fact, Alfred was just in a temporary coma! It made him feel so giddy inside and proud to have found out Alfred's mysterious conditions; and yet, something pulled at the strings of his heart…

Would they ever be the same again?

Now that depressed him in such a terrible fashion.

Picking up the broken pieces of the antique he had dropped due to his clumsiness: his favorite white porcelain vase with blue petal-pattern designs, the Briton pricked his finger while attempting to clean up and began sucking on it with his tongue darting the small wound.

He winced at first, at the taste of iron dripped onto his muscle, but then it all got better as he got used to the pain of the cut. It was awkward for him to have to do this, honestly, he rarely got physically hurt – and yet, the feeling of pain helped him ease his excitement as he dropped the broken contents of the vase into the trash. "Damn…" He whispered, gazing at the attic above him with wonder.

What would happen to them?

He knew he wasn't much of a good host for the ghost. They had met not too long ago; maybe three weeks – and he was somewhat rude, and suspicious, but that never stopped Alfred. In fact the ghost did so much for him. He made him happy through unexpected ways, and made him face fears even though he wasn't really prepared. Those three weeks were special, he admitted, and seemed more like months.

He made his love life possible.

Alfred made him tolerate life a little more, to be honest.

Arthur didn't want that to change. He feared, that maybe, once Alfred awoke from his coma, then Alfred wouldn't remember him. He feared that maybe Alfred would brush him off, as if he was just some freak ready at his bedside. He feared so many things, even if they were impossible.

But he was still confused about his feelings, nonetheless, and he didn't know how Alfred thought about him. Sure, the American was always fleetingly happy around him, and yet the Briton knew that it was impossible for someone to smile all the time.

He let out a frustrated sigh, while gazing back towards his feet – what was he thinking about? He sounded like a flustered girl, wanting to speak to her crush.

**--------------------------------------------------**

He honestly would have made it to see Arthur; however, he had received a sudden call about Matthew waking up for a brief moment, so instead of chasing the stubborn Briton in the rain he had to dash all the way towards his own home and drive towards the city over in complete astonishment and angst.

The city was a good thirty minutes away, and he knew he wouldn't make it to see Matthew's waking face, but at least he could hope to himself that he could have one word before the young man slipped back into his coma state.

Panting while running towards the corridors, Francis passed by so many doors, people, nurses, without a second thought of their safety as he skidded towards the end of the hallway in a rough manner.

Twisting the brass knob open, he quietly but quickly paced himself to see the patient on his bed, lightly sleeping; finally getting back to his coma.

He had missed his chance, again.

"He was awake ten minutes ago, I'm afraid." A doctor came in with a notepad in one arm, and a fountain pen in the other. "But, be rest assured, we've found that he's slowly getting back into stabilized conditions; and it wouldn't be a surprise if he woke up any moment now." The man smiled quietly while writing a few numbers down, and rechecking the plate at the side of Matthew's bed having records of the young man's state, etc.

"Did he say anything? Ask for anything?" Francis asked with an exhausted, yet relief voice as he took Matthew's hand into his own and stared adoringly at the man sleeping peacefully.

The doctor looked a little skeptical in answering and clutched tightly onto his notepad while picking a clipboard in the process that was tied up next to the patient's desk. Francis stared wearily at the white-clad professional while feeling Matthew's pulse resonating underneath his presses.

"Monsieur, did he ask for anything?" Francis asked softly albeit with more threat and force than his previous tired answer.

"He wanted to see his brother." The doctor admitted while gazing up at the shocked violet eyes, slowly glimmering with what seemed to be tears ready to spill. "I told him to just rest, everything was fine, but…" He let out a frustrated groan while tucking his hand underneath his mane in effort to relieve him, "but he just went dozing off again before I could explain." He replied, his jaw in a firm hold as he looked away, obviously embarrassed by not having the chance to tell what had happened.

"It's strange…" The Frenchman murmured quietly while gazing stoically outside the window near Matthew's bed. "It stopped raining," He inhaled the fresh scent of rain that managed to cling unto the roof of the buildings, it was so ….new, "and yet I can't help but feel that it's raining every second."

With a sigh, and gazing downcast towards the person in coma, Francis got up and tugged onto his pleat scarf while patting his clothes in order to smooth its crinkled form. "Well thanks for calling me for this moment." He muttered while shaking the doctor's hand before exiting the doorway.

"Hold on Mr. Bonnefoy…" The doctor called out as he stepped from outside of the room and caught him by the shoulder in a rough grip. "If you would like, I can give you special permission to see Mr. Jones body," breathed the younger man as he had to stride along way to capture the fast-paced Frenchman. "We have it in the basement, in the refrigeration room. It's in a cryogenic storage, and-"

Francis blinked wide while staring at the doctor in complete baffle.

"Why do you still have his body?" Was the small murmur coming from Francis' quivering lips as he gazed at the individual beside him.

"Well, it was a request, sir." The doctor replied with a fidget as he gazed into the cold eyes of the Frenchman.

"Who ordered for this request?"

"Mr. Jones, Sir."

Several fleeting minutes took place between the two as they wandered towards the lowest floor possible and into a secret door with numerous locks and code numbers.

Francis wasn't entirely sure what kind of "dying words" Alfred had in mind, but he was damn sure the stupid American wasn't thinking straight when he asked his body to be preserved. The doctor was babbling on and on about how the American, during his out of coma moments, kept insisting that he'd be alright and that if he somehow _wasn't_ able to make it, at least Matthew could see his body one last time.

_"Preserve my body, and then when he wakes up let him have the rights to do whatever he wants with my body." The broken figure ordered while signing a paper with special permission, as his hand shook uncontrollably. He looked so defeated, whilst he stared at the font with frustration, and he sometimes seemed as if he wanted to break down and apologize. He wasn't a good brother, he knew it himself, he should have never…Oh God, he was just like his father, wasn't he?_

_"I…don't deserve…"_

_The doctor gazed at him remorsefully._

Now this was just confusing. Alfred, a serious, troubled youth; simply having some intense psychopathic statement was just so very uncharacteristic of him. He knew how Alfred would go in his drunken rage, yet the man still had reason – and knew when to quit, stop, whatever.

"So, he wanted you to preserve him?" Francis replied as they walked towards the last door of the hallway, where the doctor slid his ID and the lock immediately opened the door.

Francis took note of the Identification Card as they slipped into the freezing room. "Sorry, here, take this lab coat." The doctor murmured as the Frenchman felt a waft of chilly air escape from the habitation. His spine literally shivered, and he clutched his jaw into a tight hold, while immediately picking his arms up to embrace his waist and upper torso.

Unfazed by the difference in temperature, the doctor stepped close towards the cloaked bed in the middle of the room. Its crisp white sheets clung tightly onto the subject underneath it and Francis had to register that Alfred was the subject, frozen and preserved under it.

Carefully latching the locks off on top of the sheets, and pulling a drawer open to get several tools necessary to free their hold, the doctor was gently unwrapping the layer and revealed a healthy preservation of the dead American.

Francis didn't know what to say when he saw Alfred's body in healthy condition. The American's skin was still its normal peachy glow, but it was more rigid and paler than it should have been. His pink fingertips were nothing but a vibrant purple, and his moist lips were frost with light winter colors.

So Alfred hadn't been buried yet? Was what he thought as he leaned over, gazing at the body with some ill contempt but there was slight sympathy appearing on his normally confident face.

"It's strange, really…" The doctor's voice piped up suddenly from his reverie, as the Frenchman softly touched the cold flesh of the young boy in his deep slumber. "We think he must have died due to post trauma after that accident…his body was just too unharmed, no damage, nothing – his brain probably just shut him off." He replied while gazing at the cadaver before them.

Francis didn't know what to say as he stared at the frozen body, and yet, alongside with his deep sadness he found a bit of rage blossoming as he scanned the body in a perfect death state. What was Alfred thinking? Why did he want to preserve his body? Was he _that_ full of himself? The Frenchman let out a frustrated sigh as he gazed at the never-ending slumber of the American's state.

Just by staring at the American in a peaceful state made him want to strangle him, scratch off his flesh, insult him, cry, and curse – anything, and yet he knew how much the American wouldn't respond back.

Alfred was gone. He had escaped the broken world he had made himself, and left Matthew in such a pitiable condition. How could he have done this to his only brother? How could he have made Matthew so much through living, and even more in death?

Why was Alfred so damned selfish?

**--------------------------------------------------**

He was getting colder as time passed by, and the American could feel himself nearly breaking down as he couldn't regulate himself due to the difference in temperature. The house was so cold, how did it get so cold? He wanted to go under the sun, and yet it was so painful to him. He hated the feeling of the ray's piercing against his skin. It hurt so much – and yet he needed it. He needed warmth.

He wanted _warmth_.

"Alfred?" Arthur's voice suddenly piped up from out of nowhere, and suddenly scared blue eyes gazed at warm, emerald. "Alfred, what are you doing? Are you alright?"

_Warmth_.


	18. Levity

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Eighteen: **Levity

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**Author's Note: **Well, I think that this story is coming closer and sooner to the end, but I always have some things to add, much to my dislike, I guess. Although I love writing this story, but yeah – enjoy. _Read & Review please! _**Also make sure to vote on a poll I have on my Profile concerning which story you want to read first or are more interested in. **_Thanks! _By the way, this is like a small mini episode. And I'm currently sick so please don't expect too much from me *dying of stupid immune system.*

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"Come on now, don't be stubborn, Alfred and drink it." Arthur replied solemnly as he pushed the cup of hot tea towards the ghost who was shivering in the darkest corner of the living room. The idiot American was making everything so very difficult for his recovery, (just because of the baked scones he made and the brewed tea); and Arthur was feeling a tad bit annoyed at Alfred's reluctance to drink a simple, healthy cup of green herbal tea.

It was irritating to watch as the sniffling ghost refused to take a sip of the beverage, and yet, Arthur couldn't really do anything for him, but maybe stuff food and warm drinks in the American's mouth.

Honestly, at the rate Alfred was at, shivering over there in the corner, complaining – he wasn't going to get healthy at all!

Maybe he should just pour tea in his mouth? Maybe he should just force it in the American?

That seemed quite appealing, and that was what he was planning to do.

"No, no you're not – don't you dare." Alfred spat, as the Briton leant against the table and took the cup of tea into his bare hands, forgetting that it was freshly made. Seething at the spreading warmth through his fingertips the Briton forced the American's mouth open, allowing all the contents of the cup into Alfred's mouth, excluding the teabag since he was so very considerate.

Choking, and hitting his head hard against the wall; the ghost moaned in an agonizing yet aggravated pain while he rubbed the back of his bruised head. Clear blue eyes glowered at bright green, whilst they stood in their positions for several minutes. "What did you do that for?" Alfred hollered, uncharacteristically, while looking a bit angrier than his usual self.

Arthur blinked several seconds noticing the sudden personality change Alfred had just revealed to him. What the hell was _that?_ "Well, you were complaining about your cold or whatever, but you weren't doing anything so I took the privilege to feed you myself!" He spat back, glaring at the American not noticing that he was on top of the ghost, himself.

He lay on top of the other, obliviously, whilst the American grumbled a few incoherent words before sneezing and staring quietly at the marbled floor below them.

There was something certainly nagging the American's mind, was what Arthur thought as he gazed at the American with a small frown readying its place on his lips.

Alfred looked so much very depressed, it bothered the Briton to no ends as the American kept quiet.

Why was that loud, obnoxious brat of a man making him so depressed?

Arthur could feel his sadness pull at the strings of his own heart, while he stared into those deep, contemplative blue. It was eating at him, and whenever their eyes met it would make him feel like jelly ready to spill over at any given time.

"Are…Are you okay?" The Briton muttered sheepishly as he found his own fingertips graciously glide against the pale cheeks of the cold ghost.

Some sort of pale pink tinted against the American's yellow coloring, and blue eyes stroke with a vivid highlight of sapphire as emerald peered through them.

"I'm fine." Alfred lied, clutching onto his chest as he felt his heart aching.

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Arthur was being so careful around Alfred lately, it made the ghost uncomfortable whenever the Englishman feigned a smile or even started to pretend to care about him. He knew Arthur so well, it hurt to know that even if Arthur was concerned with him – it wouldn't be the same concern he wanted.

He didn't necessarily _love_ Arthur, he liked the man really, but he was not in _love_ with him. In honesty, Arthur reminded him every day of his brother; an innocent youth, plagued by a torturous past with nowhere to go. Arthur was essentially like Matthew in every way, but Alfred did not want to admit that.

Alfred thought that maybe his reason for helping Arthur find Kiku and have a more livable life was maybe because Matthew unconsciously made him strive for that perfect ending.

That ending in which he irrevocably screwed up.

He knew he wouldn't get that ending, it was too late, and yet, maybe if he could help Arthur it would be the happily ever after Matthew wanted.

Smiling bitterly, while gazing into the emerald eyes peering up at him, the American let out a hollow chuckle while touching his forehead against the Englishman unknowingly.

Arthur was baffled at the sudden action and flushed a variety of scarlet whilst he stuttered in a broken record fashion. What the _hell_ was Alfred doing? The bloody twat was acting so strange right now, and it just confused him to no ends!

"Sorry, I…I'm just thinking." Alfred smirked while taking Arthur and giving him a tight hug before laughing at his pitiable state.

Wow, he really was a pathetic person…

"Ok, ok, stop looking like that – it bugs the hell out of me." Arthur blatantly responded, while picking himself up and dusting his pants and collar shirt with disgust. Alfred smiled, but still sat in the same place probably waiting for the Englishman's hand. "You're so spoiled." The Briton grumbled, lending out the warmth of his palm, and feeling the sheer coldness of Alfred's own fingers.

It made him shiver immediately as he touched the cold, pallid flesh that the ghost was suffering from. And it made him wince, when they made contact – and for a moment, he looked up to see that apologetic stare coming from the disheartened ghost.

He didn't know why Alfred was suddenly down in the dumps, but it made him feel worse for not even knowing.

"Quit that." He whispered, as Alfred finally got up and floated around him smiling uneasily at the Briton who was trying to register what the American was flustered about. "You make me feel so…stupid." He admitted, glaring at the youthful spirit who only let out a teasing grin before chuckling in an almost greedy way.

"I'm sorry."

Since when did the Briton feel that these words were so fragile? He didn't know. Those apologetic words made his heart ache, as he turned around facing the ghost who was barely smiling up at him. What the _hell _was Alfred keeping away from him? Was he that bad of a person to Alfred to have secrets kept away from him? Did he do anything else wrong to make a spirit, no, a Fake Ghost, hate him?

"What are you sorry for, you damn git?" He seethed out of the blue, turning a beautiful red before finding pricks of clear blue in the corner of his eyes. Alfred just let out another of one of his condescending laughs before happily zooming pass by him, obviously ignoring him on purpose.

That stupid American, how could he be so insensitive?

"Get back here, you need to rest! I don't care if you can't sleep you need to lay on a bed or something!" He took off, chasing the ghost to the other side of the house.

Alfred kept laughing.

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"Honestly, you're just like a child." The Briton reprimanded later on in the day while sitting next to the ghost, all snuggled up underneath his bed covers, but still chattering away like crazy as if he were in an ice popsicle. "Jeez, why are you so suddenly cold? You weren't like this before." The Englishman muttered, taking his warm hands and placing it on the American's forehead while feeling the chill spread throughout his fingers.

"Well, I have no idea-"Lied the ghost once again, while smiling cheerily.

To have Arthur be by his side, and taking care of him was like a dream to the American. Finally he could rest, and feel comforted – even though he didn't deserve it, but damn he was so cold – he was so terribly cold, it made him miserable and uncomfortable.

"Is there anything you want?" Piped the Briton, while gazing at the American who seemed baffled at first, but realization hit his little, tiny brain and a goofy smile formed up on his pinkish lips. This made the Briton blush incredibly, and gaze away in such an embarrassed look. "Look, it's not like I'm being all nice – it's just a common courtesy for me to help…and it's like paying my debt to you." He went rambling on while stuttering all the way to finish his sentence.

"I see." The American continued to smile, and let out a brilliant grin before looking away outside where the blinds were shutting the sun away from him. "I'd like…"

Now what did he want? He had no idea, his head was racing with so many possibilities and yet everything he thought about wasn't _enough_.

Whatever he would receive from Arthur would be just too little for Alfred, because at this point he knew what he wanted.

He wanted to live again.

He wanted to redo everything because if he could do everything again his brother wouldn't have to be so depressing.

"How about you give me a kiss?" He smirked teasingly while gazing up at the Briton who stood up in shock, completely taken aback from the request coming from the obnoxious American.

"W-What did you say you wanted?" He asked in complete astonishment while scurrying over to a faraway corner from Alfred.

The ghost shrugged, crossed his arms, and let out a small pout. "I just want a kiss, is that too much to ask?" He muttered under his breath while flipping his blonde bangs before letting out another twinkling smile. Arthur's green eyes widened at just the thought of kissing the other man—how would it feel?—No, he shouldn't even be thinking about it, he had Kiku dammit! But, before he could say any more reprimanding words, the ghost got to him first by pecking him lightly on the cheek.

"I didn't mean it as a kiss on the lips, darling." Alfred let out a charming grin while ruffling the Briton's hair as if he were an adorable child.

He didn't know what to feel as those cold lips touched his flesh; and he found himself shivering in either ecstasy or fear. Why was Alfred so cold? The book said it was probably because of the unbalance of energy between the host and the fake ghost body; however, this cold was _too_ cold.

And for some reason when the contact of cold lips finally left his cheeks, he could feel his cheeks warm up in a strange flurry of emotion.

"That's disgusting; don't do that to me again! Learn some manners!" He rambled off while turning various shades of red that rivaled even the sunset near the town memorial hill.

Alfred smirked, whilst going back to bed and covering himself up with thick blankets. _Arthur was so adorable~! _The ghost thought while closing his eyes and ready for at least a small nap.

He knew he couldn't sleep; however, at least he could pretend to drift off to dreamland.

While shutting off his eyes, and inhaling deeply whilst snuggling; the Briton couldn't help but stare at the sleeping form with adoration in his eyes. "Goodnight."


	19. Promised Day

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Nineteen: **Promised Day

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**Author's Note: ** Thanks for voting guys, after this chapter the poll will end, so make sure to put in your vote! So far, _Somewhere Across the Elysian_ is winning! I'm actually quite excited, since I have lots of major plots, twists, etc. in that one fan fiction – but, yeah, enjoy this story while it lasts!

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"Oh, I-I see," whispered the frail Japanese boy, as he held onto the receiver with a tight grasp. "No, it's nothing! I'm sure you have more important things to handle since it seems urgent, anyways." He smiled bitterly to himself, while trying to shrug off the heavy feeling of rejection away from his shoulders. "No, I wasn't really expecting you – I just….It was a spur of the moment, I'm sorry." He sighed between words, while looking at himself in the mirror, checking out his well tamed hair and dressing.

"No, I understand – I should have checked on your schedule beforehand," he blushed while twirling one finger around the spiral chord from the telephone socket and bashfully gazing away towards where his brothers were playing a few board games since it was family night in their household. "No, it was a silly request – if it's very important to you, I understand." Kiku took one hand and slid it behind the crook of his neck; laughing while looking modestly embarrassed. "It's okay; I'm fine, and good night Arthur."

Putting the receiver back onto its holder, the young man let out a depressed sigh while looking over at the table where his family was currently making loud noises. "You don't get _that_ much money, aru," Scolded the eldest brother, as he took back a wad of pink paper money away from the youngest all the while glaring at his brother's attempts to get it back from him.

"Aw, give it back! It's not fair; you always win at this game!" Young-Soo grimaced as he crossed his arms in complete irritation while letting out a cute pout. Wang only smiled at his victory while landing his marker on the end of the board game, signifying the next round.

"So, he couldn't come?" The eldest asked while gazing at the youngest with concentration; analyzing all the while Young-Soo's movements, as he tried to last time skip a block in order to not go to jail and miss a turn.

"No, he was busy." Kiku retorted back, looking a tad bit bitter while heading back towards his room to change into more comfortable clothing.

If Arthur would have come tonight the young Briton would have seen Kiku at his finest. Well, his finest was his traditional suit; however, his pretty westernized clothing was perfectly acceptable as well, and Kiku wanted him to see him in it first (other than his brothers).

"He's busy on a _Sunday_, aru?" The eldest replied nonchalantly while inspecting his manicured nails carefully. "He has nothing better to do, what's he hiding?" His brother grumbled under his breath while swatting Young-Soo's hand away from the Chance deck. "Stop that." He hissed while glaring at the younger child, eyeing at him with a wobbly frown.

"…I don't know…I think it might have something to do with…Alfred." Kiku whispered gently while taking a seat between the other two males. Young-Soo only smiled innocently at the Japanese boy, while Wang let out a displeased grunt.

"You know…he's more interested in that ghost than you. You know that, right?"

"Yes…I know…"

**---------------------------------------------**

"Shit! Alfred, that's the second time you've done that! Stop it!" Arthur hollered bitterly while getting up from his chair, and backing away from the bedridden ghost. "That's completely disgusting," he inhaled deeply while turning a cherry red. His green eyes scanned the American with a small hint of detestment as they slightly narrowed. "If you want to sneeze, sneeze in an opposite direction _or, _better yet, why don't you sneeze in a tissue, for heaven's sake?"

"Tch, like my ghost bacteria can affect you." Alfred reminded the irritated Englishman as he let out another sniffle, while cuddling into the soft fabric bed sheet Arthur had given him. He let out another content sigh, while ignoring the tantrum coming from the Briton who wanted _so badly_ to whack the living hell out of the poor boy.

If Alfred was going to behave like a child, FINE, Arthur could do without being the parent. And yet, Alfred being so helpless was just too heartbreaking for him to try and walk away.

For some reason, it felt like it was his duty to protect the ill fake ghost. It just wasn't right to let Alfred behave by himself when Arthur could help out along beside him.

_And Ghost bacteria his ass_, he knew he should be telling Alfred that the young man was in a coma, but he felt it was better to heal the poor American, and then give him the good news because essentially it would make him look like the ideal gentleman.

And he would be an ideal gentleman, even if everyone else thought he was absolutely crazy.

"What are you staring at?" The American's muffled voice softly yawned from under the covers, and immediately Arthur's eyes travelled down towards a pair of sapphire blue staring intensely towards him.

It made his heart flutter as those blue eyes pierced him. It was a strange feeling; not anything dealing with pain, but it felt awfully like it as his heart nearly flipped several times in excruciating ways.

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice whispered gently, and the Briton had to remember where he was at, and what he was doing before coming back to reality.

"No, nothing, anyways, how are you doing Alfred?" He questioned the American to change the subject while sitting idly on his chair. Those blue eyes blinked several times before understanding that the Briton did not want to answer his previous question.

"I'm getting better…" Alfred replied softly while pondering of what Arthur was thinking. He let out a contemplative frown before battering his golden blonde eye lashes, and staring innocently towards the grumpy Briton.

"That's good." The Briton muttered absentmindedly while staring back into those alluring sapphire eyes.

They remained in their respective areas for several more minutes, fidgeting while trying to break the silence with random quirks or noises.

"So…" Alfred began while glancing up at the Briton with a beautiful smile gracing his pink lips. "I was wondering, since I'm getting better…if it's alright to spend at least one day with you?" His voice was wavering as he gazed at him with a determination set in his eyes.

"You're acting as if it's the last day we'll see each other." The Briton chuckled, knowing full well that the American was in a coma. He couldn't wait to surprise the American, but he kept reassuring himself that there would be a day when he would tell him.

"Oh, well, I mean…you and Kiku always spend time together….even if for a few moments, but I just…" Creases formed on the American's forehead as he thought hard of what to say. A small tint of light blush spread across his pale cheeks as he stared back up; eyes raising upwards to meet his own gaze, "I just want one day – you and me. That's all I'm asking." He whispered with a look of embarrassment.

He didn't know what the American was thinking inside his ferociously, small mind, but there was something in Alfred's words that made Arthur just _want_ to accept the daft fool's request; even if he normally wouldn't want to.

It was a rather frightening idea to think about since he didn't know how his day would end up with Alfred around, but Arthur knew that maybe Alfred had something important to tell him? Maybe Alfred would finally tell him what had been bugging him for the past weeks? This thought seemed to please the Briton as he let out a rare smile while nodding fondly at the American.

"Sure, but only _one_ day okay?" He blushed feverishly while glancing down at the wooden flooring in his apartment. He chose to ignore those blue eyes staring intensely at him, and the Briton couldn't help it as he wanted to hide away from those scanning, powerful eyes.

He felt that maybe he shouldn't have accepted it at all, because for some reason those eyes staring back at him with a profound sense of emotions just made his heart rush as if it were in a whirlpool of feelings.

"Only one day, I promise."

**---------------------------------------------**

There was something that needed to be said, and something that needed to be done. Alfred knew that Arthur was too timid to establish the first step into the unknown; so the American took it upon himself to begin the ending of their relationship.

It was currently midnight, and Arthur, had typically returned to his bed – stating how he needed a good night's rest in order to fulfill all the requests from the damn American for tomorrow. A smile approached his face, as he sat outside; staring back at that pale, white moon. It was sweet to know how thoughtful the Briton was, and it made Alfred a bit disappointed that he couldn't have met Arthur before his death.

"And to think he was a lunatic…" He let out a sigh with a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He was an idiot back then, but at least he knew that he was an idiot.

There was nothing more frightening than not knowing what you are.

After letting out his small fit of giggles, the American eyed the night with bitterness heavier than any other feeling he had expressed.

It was going to be tough departing from this young man, and yet….

He had to understand he really didn't know Arthur at all…

His main question, though, was what was hell like?


	20. Day Destined

**Beyond Our Sight **

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty: **Day Destined

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**Author's Notes: **Thank you for voting on the poll guys! I'm getting better from the cold, fever, head-ache thing, and I hope you guys continue to _read & review!_ As you all know this story is coming to a quick finish; sooner than later, and I will be submitting a new fan fiction as soon as this one ends!

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They're staring at one another with bashful, clandestine glances, and both of them think it is ridiculous since it's just the morning and they are already behaving in such a childish manner.

Arthur came down stairs not too long ago wearing a loose uniform consisting of an undone dress suit, and comfortable jeans. He didn't want to seem so formal with the American for some reason, despite his own interests, and he wanted to feel comfortable for the day seeing that the American thought that whatever he was going to tell Arthur was _very_ important and whatever significant matter the American had on mind would make him feel uneasy; therefore he concluded he _needed_ to wear something to soothe himself.

He had spent nearly an hour trying to find fashionable, appropriate and comfortable garments, but he still didn't know why he was taking so long. Even Mina and Makara's remarks on his outfit still didn't satisfy him as he kept protesting how ugly it looked on him.

_"Since when have you been so concerned with what you're wearing?"_ Makara would smirk with a playful glint dancing in his eyes, while Mina rolled her eyes in front of him swearing to the "stars above" that Arthur was damn beautiful and that 'who the hell cares how he dresses like?'

"This is important," was the only thing Arthur would comment back as he took out a plaid tie and tossed it into a waste basket despite its nearly clean, and unused self.

It wasn't as if he was going on a date, for crying out loud, and yet…there was something pulling at his heart strings trying to say that it was, in effect, in some twisted way, indeed a date.

_"Jeez, you're so pushy…" _Mina would grumble, while flopping around in the room whining on how little attention they got ever since Kiku and Alfred came into his life.

"This is important, Mina, please…I'm busy." Arthur sighed while combing his untamed hair, only for the various strands to redo themselves in their normal positions. "We can talk about this later." He added with a shaking sigh.

The zodiacs couldn't help but glance at one another while they took comfortable positions on his bed.

In truth, he didn't get enough sleep last night despite going to bed earlier than he usually would. It was strange because every time he let a wink of slumber get to him he would immediately wake himself up again, because, in truth, he was scared of what Alfred had to tell him.

There were so many possibilities of good news and bad news, but Arthur knew that he had even _better_ news to convey that would probably make him feel better after the day…but still…Alfred had that small percentage to make his life worse.

Alfred at the mean time had been awake for the past twelve hours and was already getting on at breakfast making the morning a fantastic start with greasy bacon and scrambled eggs. The young American was so into the day that he had even prepared the table which was covered in a fine, white patterned table cloth (which Arthur had kept for only special occasions), and also managed to put down the silverware perfectly parallel to one another.

The Briton stood aghast at how perfect Alfred could be; everything was in an all too much straight order, and he was certainly even more astonished at the weaved coasters set place with _brewed tea_ steaming hot on top of them.

"I thought you didn't like tea?" He chided while strolling down the carpeted stairs and gazing at the American who seemed to be pleased with his appearance. _Good, at least I don't look dumb to him_, thought Arthur as he took each step with caution. "What made you want to cook breakfast, Mr. Alfred?" He replied all too cheerfully as emerald orbs clashed against baby blue eyes.

Alfred let out a nervous chuckle as he led Arthur to his seat, and pushed it in gently so that the Englishman could use his utensils. "I just want to start the day as bright and happy as it can be!" The ghost remarked all too tainted with a fake happiness in the edge of his tone. Arthur gazed towards him for a brief second before taking a small bite of the bacon that Alfred had made.

It was surprisingly sweet despite its crunchy and salty look.

"So where are we heading off to first?" He asked while taking a sip of the brewed tea this time, inspecting the color first, and then timidly dipping the tip of his tongue into the brownish liquid. It was also very astonishingly sweet.

"Just town, we're just walking through town, is that alright?" Alfred was turned away from him while washing the dishes trying to take his mind somewhere else as he scrubbed hard on the stained porcelain.

There were a couple of points that made his ghostly hands almost miss catching the plates and silverware, but he had to concentrate hard in order to not break any expensive porcelain.

Lately, he found himself working too hard for the simplest of spiritual activity.

For example, simply being awake was hard for him because he knew as soon as he would begin to lay one eye lid closed he'd remain like that forever: dead.

And it wasn't just some instinct calling out to him that he would fade soon, no, it was the fact that he was getting more exhausted by the day, and even today Alfred felt like just sleeping for eternity. It was like his _calling period_ was ending, and that God was ready to judge his pitiful life.

The other thing was that it was taking a toll on his ghostly form as he tried floating, hovering, any means of transportation available for the ghost body. It was just too painful, and harmful to his health.

He just couldn't stand the pain. It took almost half his withering energy to stay awake, while the other to help him through the day, which, by the way, wasn't a lot.

Staring at the shiny porcelain between his transparent fingers, the ghost gazed thoughtfully at his hidden reflection on the white surface of the China. Arthur was mumbling some sort of thing in the background (most likely having an argument with that unicorn again, or whatever), so Alfred chose to drone out the noise and focus on the pain occurring within him.

"It's still morning…." Alfred muttered out under his breath while pushing the last dish into the drying rack, and sloppily cleaning his hands even if nothing could really harm him in the real world.

"Excuse me?" Arthur's voice suddenly reemerged in his daydream, and the American had to think for a while to register that he was still with Arthur.

"N-Nothing, I said nothing! It's still morning, so we have lots of time to talk and do things! Anything you want!" He smiled, beaming wide while seating himself beside the other man.

---------------------------------------------

"Mr. Francis, the doctor is calling for you." A Nurse called out from the reception desk, smiling brightly at him as if it were to give good news. "I'm sure everything will go well after you speak with him." She winked, taking his hand to reassure him, while opening the entrance door which led to the doctor's office.

The Frenchman inhaled deeply, feeling excitement well in his chest as he took the liberty to unlock the door.

"Mr. Francis, please have a seat." The doctor replied, wrinkles forming under his eyes while he smiled dearly at the younger man. "I have some very good news that I'm sure, you've been waiting to hear."

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"I'm hungry, I want some ice cream! Let's go get some!" The American yelled as they left his apartment to travel around.

"Already? Didn't we just eat breakfast?" Arthur asked with a distraught tone in his voice while he combed his sandy lock hair with his frail, pail fingers.

"Nah, I'm hungry as hell!"

The American was so full of happiness and endless energy, that Arthur couldn't help but smile as the American looked so rejuvenated. Alfred looked absolutely healthy, and was beaming with a strange pride that resonated all around him.

They took a shortcut to the nearest ice cream vendor, as the American complained on how long the walk was to the Gelato store.

"Ice cream's better than Gelato, or whatever." The American commented, winking, as he took the Briton's hand, ignoring the blush escaping on Arthur's face.

Normally, Arthur wouldn't even bother entering the specialty store, but Alfred was an exception. Alfred was _always_ the exception for him.

"Can I have one large rocky road please and…um…with extra chocolate syrup?" The Briton muttered nervously, copying the words off the American's lips, as the vendor stared at him with surprise while scooping up the ice cream and lathering it with dark chocolate. The American smiled hungrily as Arthur grabbed the extra diabetic food, and handed it clandestinely to the ghost who once in a while gave the cone back in order to not freak out the passersby.

"It's awesome, you want some?" Alfred would always ask as they passed by stores, looked through them with disinterest, and commented on the weather.

"No thank you," he would sigh again while rolling his eyes and following wherever the American wanted to head to.

"You're missing something,"

"I'm pretty sure I'm fine without that sugary cone of diabetes, thank you very much."

"Are you sure?" Alfred egged him while letting out another dazzling smile and serving the cone right in front of him as they walked towards a hill.

"Oh, Alfred, for the love of God! Yes, I am sure."

The American shrugged, and they continued on their way.

Arthur felt that he might have hurt the American's feelings, but that was not the case as the young man continued to hum and point out in fascination with strange buildings Arthur thought were perfectly fine and beautiful.

"Those buildings are pretty weird…" He went on, as they travelled pass by buildings with roman architecture influence, and even passed through French Baroque buildings, which Arthur had to admit, had great style.

"These buildings are beautiful, Alfred – I'm pretty sure wherever you're taking me won't be as memorable as this," Arthur joked, seeing the American only smile gently at him, before finishing the last of his cone.

Alfred stared quietly at Arthur's short figure whilst they walked through the streets in a somewhat strange loneliness. They had been quiet at the start of their walk, but something resonated between the two as they glanced at one another while evenly pacing themselves to go to wherever they were supposed to go.

"Do you remember how we first met?" Alfred begun, sighing softly with a sweet smile embracing his colored face.

The wind was blowing his gentle, golden locks and his bangs were covering his hazy, sapphire eyes as they twinkled behind them. To Arthur, Alfred seemed like he was shining. And not just shining due to the golden light bathing him, but he seemed like he was actually visible to the world: his world.

"I wanted to scare you, but I was still scared of being alone." The American chuckled and took one brief moment to stare at those shining emerald eyes. "I don't know why I wanted to scare you so much…, but I think, I know why I shouldn't have scared you in the beginning." He breathed, while taking Arthur's arm and pacing faster towards where his destination.

Arthur gazed up at him, staring at him with wide, emerald eyes while laughing gently between Alfred's words. "You sound like an old man for your age." He smirked back, slightly nudging the ghost with his elbow, feeling the softness of Alfred's vestige. He had grown quite more transparent than the norm, and he knew Alfred was feeling really insecure at the moment. He could feel it, _sense it_, but he also knew he had better news to convey to the ghost who was suffering.

As they ran across the town, with many people staring at the strange sight of Arthur being pulled by an invisible force, Alfred made a complete stop on top of a hill.

It was a perfectly, cozy area. No one was there, other than the children playing at the base with their pets and nonsensical toys. And everything was in complete state of harmony. No noise, nothing, but the wind that billows their rough strands of hair and the sun to shine upon them no matter how much it hurt to stay in the sunlight.

"When I was a kid…" Alfred whispered in his ears, sitting down on the ground while forcing the other man along with him. "I used to play all day with my brother on a hill like this." He smiled, tickling the tip of Arthur's lobes while inhaling the scent of white plum perfume the Briton wore.

"You…You remember everything?" The Englishman was startled at the news as he stared at the ghost who chuckled lightly while making him sit down in a more relaxed state.

"I've known for the past weeks Arthur, believe me." He sighed while burying his head between his knees and seeing nothing but pitch black as he closed his eyes so hard in order not to sleep too peacefully. "I wanted to tell you, but… Now that I think about it, it wouldn't have made any difference…Well, maybe one." He mentioned, gazing up at the sky, and at this point Arthur could feel his own insecurity as the American stared back at him with a serious expression.

"…What was your brother's name?" Arthur croaked, his voice shaking as the young ghost's stare nearly frightened him with his grave look.

"Matthew. Matthew Williams is his name." The American whispered softly, his eyes staring down at Arthur with a deep hurt written all over them. "He took after my mother's last name. My name comes from my father." He added staring away from the Briton as their eyes gazed at one another with so much emotion, it almost hurt to stare.

A faint silence consumed the area, and even the yells and laughter coming from the children did not soothe the intense atmosphere between the two. "On a hill like this, my brother and I would be staring at the sky for hours." Alfred inhaled while letting a small, bitter smile touch his face. "It would be a waste of time, but we felt that there was something _there_. Like there was magic, you know? And that, one day, when we reach the sky, we'll be able to see that magic."

"Alfred…"

"But I messed up, and I left my brother hanging in a dream state. I can't go back, there's nothing else for me to do- I left him hanging on a cloud."

"Alfred, there's something I need to tell you…"

Alfred gazed at Arthur in surprise as the Briton took his sleeve and stared at him with shining, wide eyes.

In all his moments with Arthur, he had never seen this concern, this emotion coming off from the Briton, and so he was touched as the Englishman leveled their eyesight and got on him with determination set in his eyes.

"I-I found something out the day we came in the library last time." The smaller male blushed, averting his gaze as the American's eyes pierced intensely at him. "A-And, well, there was this special book that Makara had known about…"

"Makara that…fish goat thing?" Alfred asked with amusement in his tone.

Everything seemed like it was getting darker, heavier, unbearable as they sat together in silence that Alfred wanted to make light of the scene.

"NO! The Capricorn – but listen – that isn't the point…" Arthur cried out, his eyes screaming at the ghost whilst he shook the man back and forth with his feeble strength. "The point is, in that book…it described everything a ghost _is_, and-and…based on the findings in that book, you're not a ghost." He replied finally, his eyes closing, and his heart beating faster. "You're still alive Alfred, the book says you are."

"Arthur…" His voice was so pessimistic; it made Arthur angry as the American stared at him with pity. Those blue eyes were gazing up at him with pity written on them, sympathizing on _him_.

"No, I'm serious, if you would look at this book, all the syndromes you have don't match that of a real ghost. You're just in a coma, and you just need to relax, because you won't disappear…you won't…" The Briton replied softly, trying to comfort the American who he knew thought he would leave the world. "You won't go away…you're still alive." The Briton smiled, while touching the cold cheeks the ghost possessed.

"You're still alive, Alfred." He finalized his remark while he gazed closer at the American's features.

Now that he thought about it, Alfred did look tired.

"Arthur…I…" His voice held that same pity his eyes screamed back, and Arthur felt anger rising within him.

"You won't listen to me will you?" He seethed all of a sudden, his heart bursting in anger as the ghost continued to stare at him the same way those _other, _ignorant people continued to stare at him.

"No, it's just that I have something to tell you that-"

"…I don't get you, I'm telling you that you are alive – we can see your body this moment! Just tell me where you're body is and we can-"

"That's enough, Arthur…," spoke the ghost in a grave manner, his eyes glaring up at the Briton who seemed shocked to see the happy spirit go into an extremely grave mood. This was rare. "I don't deserve to live, don't give me this hope – I won't come back…just please, listen to me…"

He didn't know why, but as soon as the ghost gazed at him with that menacing stare, his heart started to run, and he began to feel helpless with all the emotion Alfred was conveying to him.

All the feelings of regret, sadness, anger and confusion were displayed to him, as if the American had did some wrong that he chose not to correct.

"Arthur…I was a very bad person in the past." Alfred replied, taking his hands, and holding onto him tightly as he could feel the Briton wriggling in his grasp. "I was so bad, I tortured my brother, and I couldn't help him because I couldn't help myself." The American cried, and the more depressing side of his past spilled from his mouth.


	21. Good Night, Good Morning

**Beyond Our Sight **

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty One: **Good Night, Good Morning

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**Author's Note: **This chapter took forever, sorry guys. It was just like some weird writer's block that was trying to eat out all the emotion out of this chapter, when this chapter is supposed to be very emotional. Anyways, thanks for the reviews! Continue _reading and reviewing_ please!!!!

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_If there was one thing he could change from the past, it would undeniably be to make his brother happy, even if it meant to sacrifice everything._

They stood in a stunned silence, in that one embrace. The sunset was finally laying itself to sleep into the midnight blue, and the tranquility of the area only seemed to seep into their inner cores, dampen their hearts and even darken their relationship. The feeling of misery swept both of them off their feet as one clung to the other, while the other simply stood limp with utter disbelief.

All this time, Alfred had been keeping a dreadful memory away from him. All this time, he had been smiling with something haunting him; something eating at his already diseased heart – like a hell reliving inside him.

"I deserve this ending, Arthur…" Alfred's voice suddenly whispers into his ear. The warmth, despite the cold arms surrounding his waist, touched his left lobe with such a refreshing feeling. Arthur shivered at the sudden contact, but nevertheless did nothing as the ghost smiled bitterly while releasing his arms around the other.

It was like a huge weight leaving his shoulders, but as soon as the American let go of him, another weight planted in his heart.

Looking back up as soon as the coldness left him, the Briton found those laughing blue eyes dancing down at him like a song full of emotions. The last rays of the blood red sun, shriveled around the American, and for once that smile hanging onto Alfred's pale face seemed so depressing.

The golden sunset never looked so uglier to him.

What should he do? How should he comfort someone who had obviously made the mistake? Why was it Alfred who had come to him? Why did he have to face all of these problems? Why couldn't his life be _perfect_? Why was Alfred still a mystery to him?

"…But you're alive, Alfred…" He began, his throat aching to crack as he turned his gaze back at the American.

That stupid smile was still traced onto the ghost's thin lips, and those stupid sapphire eyes still glittered with that mocking hope. All of the American's traits were trying to convey to him the inevitability of where they stood, and _yet_, there was still that hope inside him.

"You're still alive…and, you understand what you did wrong…" He whispered, finding his hand travelling towards the American, and grasping that white crispness of Alfred's shirt. "You can ask for forgiveness." He replied, his voice wavering as he touched his forehead against the American's chest. "You can ask for forgiveness…"

"Arthur…"

And never before has he found that voice so damn annoying.

"FORGIVE YOURSELF, DAMN IT! What would your brother think, if he knew his death was bringing you down?! God gave you a chance, and here's your chance – damn you, you piece of…"

And never before has he found that cold trait of the ghost to be so comforting.

Here he was crying, but here he was telling himself that everything would be okay, because whatever that book said – he knew it was true. That book, it told him everything – and yet those depressing looks from the American made his heart shatter every time he looked up.

"You piece of shit…" He croaked, trying to tie his hands together around the American's waist. Was Alfred this huge? "You're a piece of shit." He replied softly, murmuring into the American's chest as he tried to comfort himself.

Alfred stared down at Arthur, a frown tingeing the tips of his smile as the shorter male tried to comfort the both of them.

He didn't know what to say; because he knew what other words he had left would only make a crack between their already disappearing bond.

The only thing he could do is remain silent, and smooth his hands back and forth across the fragile man's back.

"It's alright…I'm alright." He lied while inhaling the soft scent of Arthur's hair; a soft strawberry, his favorite fruit. "I'm alright." His forehead touched the top of Arthur's hair, as he felt the softness of the Briton's mane. It was so silky.

The lie behind those beautiful words, hurt too much. Arthur understood Alfred knew where he stood, but he was a dumb American, and Arthur would prove to Alfred he was still alive.

"I'll find you," Arthur muttered while crushing the American with all the force he could muster with his thin arms. "I'll show you, that everything will be fine, you stupid git." He replied, glaring up at those hideous, blue eyes.

**---------------------------------------------------**

"Mr. Bonnefoy, please come in." A nurse smiled softly as she unlocked the door leading to the patient's room, and allowed him to enter in.

It never felt so magical before; it never felt so _right_, as soon as he took his first step into Matthew's quarters.

It was a heavenly room, all clad in white, and shining as the sun sprinkled every corner of the room. It was like a fairytale that was finally receiving its happy ending.

"He'll be waking up shortly," the woman replied, bowing slightly, while leaving to attend other family members. Francis nodded as he saw her shadow leave, and turned around to face the sleeping figure atop on the bed.

Matthew lay on the crisp, white sheets, inhaling deeply. His golden tresses curled on the edges of his pillow, and, to Francis, he never looked so beautiful in his life.

The heart monitor was beating evenly, and Francis felt a whole burden leave his shoulders as he gazed patiently for the younger man to wake up.

What should he say? What should he do when little one woke up? How should he react?

He never felt this excited in his life before. He never felt so relieved in his life before.

Finally, Matthew would be waking up, and he would get to see that smile and those purple eyes, again, because God, has those things been taken away from him for too long.

His hands instinctively wrapped around Matthew's own hand, and all of a sudden he could feel those eyes starting to flutter open.

**---------------------------------------------------**

He wouldn't let go of him, and Alfred could sense that the Briton was determined to keep close to him, just like a child obsessed with its toy.

They had returned home, and Arthur, selfishly, asked for him to stay with him the whole night; his hand never leaving the ghost's hand, as they lay side by side one another on the bed with a strange awkwardness.

Arthur didn't feel embarrassed, no, in fact, he felt more comforted with the American right by his side; no matter the awkward situation he had given to the both of them. It felt right to be with one another.

"Good night, Arthur…" The ghost let out a weak chuckle, as he found the Briton slowly dozing off. His hands, still, never were leaving the other's hand. "Good night…"

He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to doze off, because, maybe if he could stay up the whole night; he would get to see one more morning with Arthur. And that if he made himself pass through the night, without feeling any weakness, any moment of fatigue, he would get to say goodbye properly.

He tried telling the other man the circumstance he was in; that he was dead, and that his brother was the one giving all of them hope, because somehow, he and Matthew, were just always together, for some reason.

He wanted to tell him so many things, so many things about him, and that whatever Arthur learned from the past few weeks with them together, was nothing.

He wanted to tell him almost _everything_; what he loved doing, what he hated, what he wanted to be, what he ended up becoming. He had so many things to say that he would never get the chance to.

Because tonight, was their last night.

Hands still locked into a tight bond, the American got up, and gazed closely at the sleeping figure, below him. The Briton looked so peaceful in this state; it made his heart churn up in a painful twist, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see Arthur like this again.

If he was crying, he wouldn't _not_ admit it, because this was going to be one of those memories he would keep up until he would stop persisting in the world and afterlife.

"Thank you for everything, Arthur." He smiled softly, wiping those sandy locks away from those closed eyes. God, he was just like Sleeping Beauty perched up in the bed, with no fear or knowledge of his surroundings. "Thank you, thank you." His voice was croaking, and he could actually feel those silver tears sliding against his cheeks.

"Looks like I won't get to see the morning with you," he replied, and stared at the Briton with regret. "…But, at least, I get to tell you this. I really, really like you, Arthur. I do." He smiled widely, chuckling, as he kissed the man's forehead. His mouth quivering, as he lay back down; feeling accomplished.

"Goodbye…" His soft breath ghosted over the sleeping Briton, as he closed his eyes.

And he could feel that air of relaxation warp around him, and that feeling of bearing no guilt wave inside him. He closed his eyes, and finally, he could feel nothing. No more pain, nothing. He was free, until Hell claimed him.

**---------------------------------------------------**

"Bonjour, Mathieu." A voice, soft and familiar, welcomed him; as he fluttered his eyes opened to gaze at the man he held dear to him, hover above him like an angel. "Welcome back," murmured the Frenchman, and he could feel the same warmth resonate within him, as he gazed into those violet eyes.

"…Francis…" The young man replied slowly, his eyes blinking with realization, as he gazed at his surroundings with fear. "Francis…Francis…" He repeated, embracing the other man, while his mouth quivered softly.

"Now, now, I'm here," The man whispered back, smoothing his hands back and forth on the small of the boy's back. "I'm here, Mathieu. I'm here."

"Where's my brother?" Those violet eyes seized to shimmer, as he gazed weakly at the Frenchman who remained baffled.


	22. You

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Two: **You

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**Author's Notes: **Actually, this part is going to take longer than I expected, and I certainly don't see why I can't expand this part into like 2 other parts since its important. Thank you for all the reviews I've gotten so far. _Please_ continue on **reading and reviewing**!

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_All he ever asked for was to be together. Whether it is in happiness or in pain, at least they could share everything._

His violet eyes fluttered softly as he gazed into those amethyst orbs Francis was known for having. He didn't understand what those eyes were trying to tell him, the way the Frenchman's lids narrowed softly into a sensitive crevice and the way those hazy eyes shimmered with some sort of hidden uncertainty. He still didn't understand that message the older male was trying to tell him.

"You just woke up, mon amour." The small smile touched the corner of the other man's lips, as he tried his best to work up his muscles. He needed to pretend for Matthew. He needed to tell him everything was alright, Alfred was alright, and that no one could (typically) hurt his brother anymore; _him_ anymore.

"Where is he? I don't care if I'm tired. Where is he?" Matthew continued demanding for Alfred, but Francis, honestly had nothing else to say.

"Shhh, everything is fine, just go get some rest and we'll talk about this later." He murmured quietly, pressing his lips onto the younger male's forehead, while feeling that aching sensation flood his heart.

There was nothing more painful than having to see Matthew stay in a coma for almost a month, and the lad _knew_ Francis had to have suffered during his moment of unconsciousness, so _why_ was he making it so much harder for the both of them?

The fragile American said nothing more, as Francis rest his chin on his head, comforting him with words of reassurance laced with silky lies and honeyed words.

"You don't understand, do you?" Came the soft voice, trembling as he found Francis to be all of a sudden silent from his normal chatter. "You don't understand how much Alfred means the world to me?"

Because, essentially, no one really understood how the tragedy started. No one, really knew who the _real_ Alfred F. Jones was, because he had been so stupid, as to have made his brother – the real fallen angel.

"What are you talking about, Mathieu? I understand fully well - here, I have come to see you every day during your state, and I've also managed to get someone you've wanted to see come and meet you!" Francis replied in a panic as he stared at the distraught boy who seemed displeased with his surroundings.

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The church bells were ringing, and for a moment he thought he was in his own funeral. He thought that maybe this was a dream, and he was nothing but dead because everything all of a sudden just seemed to lose all its meaning, as the coffin passed by him, and everyone seemed to lose all their value in his eyes.

The sky was still its shining blue, it was still reaching forever, still so huge and expansive – and yet, today, it felt so closed up and tight – it felt like it was choking him whenever he looked above. He was suffocating, and he couldn't do anything because his heart was drowning in a murky wave of depression, hate and guilt. His heart was drowning in an endless pool of regret, and he knew he couldn't do anything about it and that his heart would remain frozen in it until he could let go of it.

But the thing was he couldn't let go, and he would not let go.

A crowd of mourners surrounded the coffin, and women, men and children like him surrounded him giving him their apologies and condolences. But what were they apologizing to _him_ for? Was he not standing tall and emotionless – showing his courage and bravery by doing nothing in front of his mother's grave?

Did they not notice his younger brother, feebly crying in the background asking for God to return her? Why did they constantly go to him? Why was he plagued by their petty reassurances? Why was he drowning in their pity? Why was he actually starting to cry himself?

This wasn't like him…

"Take care of your brother, Alfred, and may God bless you, you poor little thing." A woman approached him as she scooped down to his level and cradled him in her very warm arms. He let out a small intake of breath as he felt that warmth spread to him, and immediately he understood that, as soon as she let go, he would feel cold again. "Take care of Matthew darling; we'll be visiting you often." The unknown figure remarked, waving her goodbye and leaving him one last trace of that tingling sensation.

Alfred stared as the people continued to murmur amongst one another. They were gossiping, most likely, on where he would be staying, who he should be staying with, etc. And yet that never really appealed to him.

In fact, all the useless gossip wasn't going to take him anywhere. He learned that whatever they do, they should take action less than talk about something that will never come in a good light. That's what he had learned from his past living with his father, at least.

The little child shrugged, and made his way through the adults to reach his fragile brother, all the while, ignoring his parents' acquaintances and trying desperately hard to remain unmoved.

Matthew, at the mean time, while his brother stood a couple of feet away from him, cradled himself into his own embrace while singing his own lullaby. To Matthew, it was just a nightmare ready to break as he awoke.

Alfred sighed at his helpless twin, and stared down at him with a hopeful smile.

"You and I, we have to stick together, **forever**, okay?" A young Alfred stared back at him, while crouching down and hugging his knees with his bruised arms. "Since mom's not here anymore, we have to be there for one another, okay?" He replied happily while standing up and lending him a hand. "I'll always be there. I promise." He replied with a voice filled with determination, and eyes full to the brim with confidence.

Although he never really showed that confidence shining in his eyes, because deep down Alfred knew in his heart that the world wouldn't ease up on them.

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"Alfred, we…we still have some more bills to pay for." Matthew spoke up as he travelled towards his brother's office with a fistful of mail in his hands, knocking at his door politely albeit rather painfully. "Alfred, Alfred, Alfred?" He called out his name in desperation while biting his lower lip and rapping his knuckles more quickly on the cherry tree door frame. "Alfred? Alfred? Alfred!" He continued on, knocking till it hurt, knocking until he began to bleed. "Alfred!" Matthew called out, tears ready to wash his face, and his lips trembling – but thank goodness.

His brother opened the door.

"Oh Mattie, I'm sorry I was just sleep—is that…Matthew, what were you doing?" Alfred asked softly, staring at his brother's hand while discarding the mail from his fragile fingers. "Matthew, what the hell?" He whispered almost angrily as he shoved the sleeve up his younger twin's arm lightly, and inspected the self-mutilation his brother had done.

"I'm sorry…I couldn't help it…I-"Matthew let out a terrified gasp whilst he felt his brother's fingers lightly touch his soft flesh. "That hurts Alfred, please stop…" He squeaked, but Alfred wouldn't let go.

"Stay right here, let me go get the first aid kit –jeez, I wake up and you're already in a mess." The American grumbled while running across the room, and into the main bathroom. The younger twin could hear the eldest rummage through the cabinet with lack of care, and he actually heard quite a few things drop and curses every now and then.

"Alfred…I'm sorry, I…I'm so useless." The more timid blonde replied, turning a bright pink as soon as his brother came back with rubbing alcohol and plaster bandages. The American's blue eyes stared straight into his, leaving such a huge emotion vibrate through him. Alfred then scooped his hand, took it, examined it and stared at the self inflicted wound with hurt. "I'm-"

"Shhh, no need to apologize…Just stay put…" Came the soft whisper as he dabbed cotton balls and began to gently swab his injured arm with timidity.

Matthew gazed softly at his brother, he could tell he was tired, and had just gotten back home an hour or two ago since he still wore his suit.

"How was business?" He replied meekly, staring at the elder man who gazed up at him for a brief second before applying more alcohol onto his arm.

"It was ok; I got approvals from the town over to make a new chain store over there." The American shrugged as if it were not big of a deal, and then refocused his work on his arm. "I mean, like, it'll help us – I mean, jeez, dad's debts are like endless, but I'm sure I can, like, get us out of this pit." He smiled confidently before taking the bandages and wrapping it up.

Matthew nodded solemnly, as he stared at his brother cleaning up the aid kit, and getting back up to store the box away again.

It had been the third time this week since Matthew had allowed such a thing to happen to himself, and he just didn't know why, but for some reason; he was always helpless whenever it came to Alfred.

He felt so useless, he could contribute to nothing. He was such a burden to Alfred; he just didn't know what to do to help him out!

He and Alfred were so different from one another; so very different. While he was timid and fragile, Alfred was always the more exuberant and brawny out of the two. While he excelled in reading and classes, his brother was far better with application than studying. And as far Matthew understood, application was far more important than just learning.

They were the exact opposites and he understood that! But what hurt the most, was Matthew knew that his brother was far better than him.

And he _hated_ it.

"Alfred, if there's anything you want me to do, please don't hesitate to ask." He whispered softly, watching his brother's huge frame disappear from within the bathroom door.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Alfred chirped up merrily while coming back to him and letting out one of those thousand watt grins that his mother loved so much. "You just rest first, okay?" His voice calmed down a bit from its enthusiasm, and Matthew slightly nodded staring at the floor with an unknown feeling swelling inside his chest; burning inside his chest.

Honestly, he loved his brother a lot, but sometimes that annoying feign of happiness got to him. In fact, Alfred's smile, his eyes, his dimples, everything about him seemed to irk the other twin. Matthew had never really realized how irritating Alfred's perfect face could be to him. That smile, he just sometimes wanted to rip it off and see a frown engraved onto his brother's tanned face. Those eyes; for an instant, he just wanted to see them as lifeless as the time their mother died.

He wanted to see how miserable his brother could be; _should_ be, because underneath all this stress Matthew knew his brother wasn't perfect and he just wanted to see that in his brother. That imperfect side of him; that side of pain and want, not the side he was currently showing him. Not that side of strength, courage and motivation to continue on living.

He wanted to see the darker side of Alfred because he was thoroughly convinced that his older twin was making him miserable.

He was swayed on thinking that his brother's perfectness, was just the reason why he couldn't contribute to anything for the family.

"Well then, up to bed!" Alfred replied softly, gazing at his brother with that annoying glint of cheer swathed all over in those blue, ocean eyes. Matthew smiled bitterly, and understood that his brother wanted some time to sleep as well when seeing those dark circles underneath the older twin's eyes.

"Good night, Alfred." He could only whisper softly, because he really didn't want his brother to sleep well.

"Good night, Mattie."

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Maybe the reason why he hurt himself was not because of Alfred? Maybe it was because he was too full of himself and he always felt that he just couldn't do anything to help anyone?

Alfred was doing _his_ own share of life, so maybe if _he_ could find his own talent and share it with everyone else as well everything would be fine!

"I recently opened the store," claimed his brother, once the door whipped open with a gleeful Alfred carrying a few empty cardboard boxes in his hands.

Matthew was surprised to hear about the sudden news, and was glad that his brother was allowed to make a new store in the town across from them. He was happy, honestly, he was!

"Erm, what are those boxes for, Al?" He asked timidly while playing with the ends of his scarf as he gazed at the winter-covered American setting the boxes down on the floor while jogging out to his convertible.

"Pack up, Mattie! We're moving!" Alfred announced with a smile, as if he was ready to leave this horrible house.

In truth, the two knew how much they wanted to leave this downtrodden abode, and they wanted to leave it quickly too. But it held so much memories the two loved and hated, so maybe that's why Matthew was a bit skeptical and maybe a little furious when his brother showed that sign of relief when they could finally leave it.

"Come on, Matt! I can't do _everything_ by myself!" His brother's voice echoed outside, as he pulled out more boxes, and claimed that he was going to retrieve a moving van in a short time after. "Just maybe, help me with _one_ thing." Alfred teased, but he really didn't understand that his brother was genuinely hurt.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Matthew called out while running out the door; feeling that chilly winter air thread around him like pinnacles of needles piercing against his light skin.

Alfred was in his car, towing out the huge containers while whistling. He was initially going to hand it over to his younger brother, but Matthew didn't seem like he could handle such huge things; that he had prompted his younger twin to go and get the smaller ones. Matthew looked, a bit, disappointed, but maybe it was just his imagination? He knew Matthew could get depressing after all his displays of self-mutilation, but he also knew Matthew wasn't always a needy person, and he also knew that Matthew could handle things by _himself_ if he could.

But since Alfred _was_ around his brother, then that would mean Matthew didn't need to do things all by himself because it was always the older brother's role to protect the younger and do everything else.

That was his philosophy. The older siblings were the providers, and all the younger ones can do is sit back, relax, or support them. It was a kind of like a heroic perspective, actually, and he was kind of full of himself too – but he knew he was no hero. If he was, then where was their mother?

"Alright, so, like, I'm going to go and head out to get the van, Matthew." He began with a smile touching his lips as he bent over to set down the last few boxes. "You can come with me, so you can drive the convertible back while I'm in the moving truck." He added, flashing one of those brilliant grins that Matthew hated, but he didn't know.

His younger twin nodded obediently while he locked the door and entered the car. As he climbed in he could feel the warmth wrapping around him, as the car had been kept running, and Matthew let out a soft sigh of comfort as the dried air surrounded them.

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He had always been the star student at school, but his brother had always been the more popular one.

Matthew let out a heavy sigh as they came into their new home. It was a rather, expensive, apartment lavished with already bought decorations made by his brother who intended for it to be a surprise for him.

It was a two story apartment, actually. It had nice, cream colored walls with floral pattern hidden in nearly every room. There were scarlet curtains with golden tresses, and tussles that hung elegantly beside the reams of the whitewashed windows. White and red couches lay lazily about in the living room, and a beautiful wooden table set stood fashionably in the kitchen.

And, damn, Alfred had also already taken the liberty to buy all the appliances! So they didn't really need any of the old ones anymore.

His heart fluttered in so many sensations. He was happy with all the new things they had gotten, but he was upset that his brother didn't confide with him so he could help out in buying things so Alfred wouldn't have had to spend all the hundreds and thousands of dollars.

They had unpacked all the boxes, at this point, and were now marveling at their new abode.

"So, you like it?" Alfred replied with a sense of accomplishment as he wiped his hands from setting the last cardboard box down.

Matthew whirled around with a small smile hiding up onto his face, as his own amethyst orbs, almost, kind of, betrayed him. "Yes, I think it's amazing!" He replied, staring up at the chandelier hanging above their heads. "It really is wonderful." He added, glasses fogging up, and his heart rate lowering with a tinge of disappointment.


	23. Direction

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Three: **Direction

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**Author's Note: **Gah, this part of the story is taking forever. I'm sorry – I think this is like a 3 part at the least. But thank you for all who took time to comment and encourage me!!! I'm trying my best to complete this story!!! _Please Review and Read! _Thank you!

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"Nice to meet you," he replied almost too quickly as soon as _that_ man opened the door; the golden chimes were, at that time, ringing with a wonderful sensation. "What can I get you, is there anything you would like?" Matthew continued on, finding himself speak a one man conversation as the guest stared at him in wonder for a while.

He smelled of sweet vanilla, as the door softly closed behind him and Matthew couldn't help but wonder why that strong scent was so alluring to him.

"Nice to meet you, too," the other man smiled warmly while staring at his golden plated tag, obviously wondering what his name was. "Yes, nice to meet you too, Mathieu." He replied one more time, with a silky accent as he let out a dashing smile before twirling his head around.

The man continued to stare at him, his eyes shining with a hidden fancy that Matthew had to question himself what.

"_OH_, and bienvenue, welcome to the small town of Fallings." The man clad in gray and emerald silk, took a seat in front of the counter, as he dropped his elbows fashionably on the chestnut colored table. He lathed his arms on the perfect surface of the setting, and let out a soft yawn while flipping his golden hair about in such a gentle sway. Matthew couldn't help but stare in a trance for a bit as he finished up the last of his chores, while mind struck.

This man was very beautiful. He had that strange elegance no man really had, and he had that striking confidence in him. Matthew knew, because he could tell. The way the man moved, spoke, and stared was so direct. It made his heart flutter with unease whenever he stared back at him.

"T-Thank you," sputtered the younger male in embarrassment, as he looked away bashfully from his guest. A light chuckle filled the air with a tinge of strange happiness as the Frenchman twirled the ends of one of his golden locks. "So what can I get you?" He inhaled, while trying his best to stare directly into those wonderful violet eyes.

"Oh where are my manners?" The Frenchman smiled softly followed by an airy chuckle, "My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and please, I just came here to see the new—"

"**Matthew**, can you come here for a sec?" A rough, exhausted voice suddenly replied from the other side of the chestnut colored room before Francis could say anymore. "It's kind of urgent." Alfred replied softly seeing a customer so early in the frosty morning.

Matthew stared straight into maddening, blue eyes, and he had to obey in order to not look so foolish in front of the new guest he had made.

The young Frenchman stared at him for a second, wonder in his gaze, as he pardoned himself to meet up with his brother. "Excuse me, for one second." Matthew smiled bitterly while placing the last glass cup onto the drying rack and swiveling his way to where Alfred was.

He didn't know what was going to happen, but whatever his brother was going to do; he probably deserved it.

He entered the restroom area, and Alfred closed the door softly behind him; locking it in the process.

"What is it Alfred?" He asked rather weakly as he whirled around to face his older twin. Those maddening blue eyes just gazed at him with an even stare, as if he _knew_ what was wrong.

And the truth was he did know what was wrong.

"Matthew, what the fucking hell are you _doing_?" Alfred spouted at the other youth, who gazed at him with a crinkled, upset forehead. "Seriously, when I'm gone for meetings, what the hell are these?" His brother pointed disappointed at numerous pills, drugs, whatever one would like to call it.

There were numerous types, scattered around the fancy marble table, and they shined so beautifully as the sun hit their sides.

"I get sick easily." He flat out lied, but Alfred knew better.

Alfred always knew better…

Those words, that lie, just triggered his older brother with so much pain; he could see those blue eyes wallow in depression as he hugged himself tightly. Those vibrant eyes cast downwards, staring at the stainless ceramics underneath their leather shoes. The way his forehead released all its tension, the way his eyes drooped down to reveal a hidden exhaustion; it surprised Matthew for a bit – but he would soon forget those terribly saddened eyes.

"Why are you holding me back?" Alfred replied all of a sudden, a tinge of hurt touching his tongue as he gazed up with sharp, sapphire eyes. "Why are you doing all of this?" He asked, his mouth turned into a tight frown as he glared straight at him.

Matthew could feel that direct feeling of oppression coming from Alfred. He could feel those feelings suffocating him as they twisted around his heart, and enjoyed the way it constricted around it. He inhaled deeply as he clutched onto his chest, and as soon as he looked back at his brother – something fused inside of Alfred and triggered such a strange display of vented violence.

"What did I do, Matthew?" Those words didn't come out as gentle as they should have been, and in a display of rashness and fury, Alfred took all the contents he had found from his brother and started slamming it across the room; thrashing them and breaking them.

Shards of glass broke, some bottles just lay there unfazed by the brute force, and Matthew just continued to stare; flustered at Alfred's peculiar attitude.

Seeing Alfred so disappointed was nothing new, but seeing him absolutely disgusted; absolutely furious was very rare.

The contents fell and some swirled around across the floor with such a tempting noise due to the quiet background.

"Clean it up, and get back to work." Alfred quipped, red in the face with shame, as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and looked away.

Matthew stood silent and obeyed.

The two walked out of the room with a strange tranquility between them. Alfred looked a bit messy after his rough display, but Matthew seemed quite appalled and teary as he came back up to serve Francis.

Immediately as their eyes met, Francis could tell something had gone wrong between the two; but whatever it was the Frenchman was thinking, Matthew knew Francis would never understand.

Besides, he was just a guest; a customer. He wouldn't get to know Matthew any better after this moment.

"Thanks." Alfred replied with an empty voice, staring back at Matthew in order to try and conceal their previous meeting from the lone customer.

"Y-You welcome." Matthew inhaled with a hitching voice.

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It was strange, really. He never thought that Francis would be so direct with him; especially since they barely knew each other.

And yet, despite their aloofness to one another, Francis insisted to go on an outing together in order to strengthen their bond. And even though it seemed a little too quick and strange, Matthew couldn't help but accept as he was deeply attracted to the other man.

In fact, he couldn't resist the smell of the Frenchman's vanilla scent; he couldn't stop looking into his violet eyes and worst of all, he couldn't stop smiling when seeing his smile.

That man's smile was so contagious.

It reminded him of his brother.

"Let's drink here, I bet you're tired of tasting the same coffee you make." Francis smiled softly as he opened the chestnut colored door into a very beautiful setting of patterned leaves and flowers.

Everything was clean, just like the Coffee Shop; but it still had some innocence to it.

It was more beautiful than their coffee store, he had to admit. And he took a good liking to it due to its tranquility because (unlike Alfred's) the store had less people in it. There was no hustle and bustle of crowds, no gossiping women, crying children and angry businessmen to ruin his day.

And best of all, it was a Tea Shop.

It was a shop his brother would never go into.

"Hello, how may I help you, aru?" A tall man came from the counter with a smile gracing his exhausted appearance.

"We would like to try the French Vanilla you have just started to sell." Francis immediately piped up, knowing Matthew would be indecisive to pick seeing how the youth kept on looking back and forth the menu with a frustrated glance.

The man smiled in acknowledgement and started commanding orders in his native language. The orders were barked back with a frustrated whine and a quiet hush from two other employees. "They will $3.50 each." The man, named Wang (written in his silver plated tag), smiled gently as he walked back from the counter after receiving the cash, and printing out the receipt for Francis.

"_Merci beaucoup." _Francis returned the grin back, while taking the receipt from the owner and glancing at it before putting it in his wallet.

Matthew continued to stare at the other man with fascination. It was apparent he was entranced by the other man, and even Francis could tell as his eyes observed the more fragile male with some interest and obsession as well.

"So…" He coughed a bit while staring at the American with a smirk traced unto his lips. Matthew blinked furiously, before getting back to reality. "How was your day?" Francis had to smack himself as he gazed at the American who seemed to have darkened up a little.

"It was alright, some business here and there." He whispered vaguely, while another man came over to place bamboo coasters on their table and serve the French Vanilla tea.

He could smell the waft of sweet fragrance, and he could already tell how beautiful it would taste and melt unto his tongue.

"…Is it your brother?" The other male continued on, as he stared at the drink's dark color with a stoic expression.

Matthew could already understand how sad Francis could get. How his eyes slanted downwards, into those sensitive crevices that deepened whenever his forehead creased due to disappointment.

"My brother is not always like that, you know." He immediately replied, as soon as Francis stared at him with accusing eyes. "He's actually rather nice." He whispered, smiling while remembering how they were; when Alfred was nothing but a troublemaker, and when he was small and the shining star of his class and family.

He honestly loved Alfred, God; he loved his brother to death.

But there was a strange tension between them ever since their mother had passed away, but he suspected it might have had to do with Alfred and his stay with their father long ago.

The last time he met his brother before their mother passed on, he couldn't forget those charming blue eyes smiling back at him with confidence and reassurance as he grasped their father's hand while waving goodbye. Matthew was standing with his mother, crying softly, as he held onto his mother's waist while timidly crying his own farewell out.

It ripped him apart; the divorce. He couldn't stand not being with his brother, they had such a tight link, it was unbearable as time flew passed them.

He remembered how glad he was, when he found the other boy come back to him as soon as their mother left.

But there was still this strange aloofness to Alfred. There was a new aura surrounding him as soon as he got out from a rackety car, wearing a suit and looking grave as ever.

The time when his mother came around, he never saw those smiling eyes again. Behind those deep sapphires lay a hidden message. A message of guilt, as his brother looked at her slumbered figure with such sadness. It was a message of wrongness, a message of blame that he would never be able to pass on.

It was engraved in his eyes, his smile, and even his heart. And Matthew could suddenly tell that Alfred had changed.

Alfred had become so much more dependable along the years, Matthew began to feel helpless, as his brother announced to protect him, to do everything for him, to do the things he couldn't for their mother.

_"I don't want to be like father_." Alfred replied as he nuzzled his head against his own. He breathed warmly, while kissing his forehead; in a soft attempt to copy their mother's action. "_I want to be just like mother; just for you." _Alfred murmured, his eyes unwavering, as he cupped his twin's cheeks and let out a bitter smile before letting go and kissing him on the cheek.

God, he remembered those days. He remembered how much he cried whenever Alfred left him to sleep by himself, and he remembered how hard Alfred worked to get them up to their status now.

"Honestly, Alfred is sweet, kind and loving." Matthew whispered dreamily as he took one sip of his beverage and let the taste of sweet vanilla spread across his tongue.

Francis seemed to be pondering in front of him. The way his violet eyes shined with a strange disappointment made Matthew aware that maybe what he was saying seemed wrong?

"What is your brother really like?" The Frenchman asked, gazing at him with interest as he stared intensely at him.

He could go on, forever, had the Frenchman asked. He could spout on how powerful his brother was, how intelligent, how happy, how sad, how guilty, how stupid, and how….how he meant everything to him.

Alfred was his everything, technically.

Alfred would always be his everything.

After going off about his brother, Francis seemed to have a new realization of his feelings. Whether or not it was jealousy, Matthew could not tell as the other blonde seemed to avert his gaze in a fixed position at his teacup.

"_Do you…by chance, love him?"_

That was a question he had never expected – especially on their first outing. It was like a sudden jump in a pool, as he stared at the other man with wide, blinking eyes.

Francis seemed aware of his foolish mistake, but his eyes continued to shimmer with courageous confidence as he met those wide, shocking amethyst. "Do you love your brother?" He whispered, ignoring Matthew's feelings, and following his own.

Because, Francis knew that he was already falling for this little angel.

His mind raced with so many strange thoughts. He loved his brother, _yes_, but what love did Francis mean? It was not a carnal love, it was never a romantic interest – but deep down, he guessed, he did love his brother if it meant he would sacrifice anything for both of them (if he could get the chance to).

"Yes, Yes I do." He whispered softly, making Francis stare at him with debate in his judgmental gaze. "I love him dearly…"

"Would you like strawberry cake with that?" Wang came over, as he suggested if they were to stay a little longer, they could try some of their new dessert for free.

"Yes, that would be fine." Francis' voice was so dry, but nevertheless, his eyes still had a hopeful glimmer to them.

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"Where were you?" Alfred asked, looking disheveled as he stared at his brother from the corner of the stairs whilst he put on his shirt after showering.

"I made a new friend, his name is Francis and we went out to talk and stuff." Matthew replied honestly as he stared at his brother with a wobbly smile.

"Wow, really, Mattie? That's good to hear!" Alfred replied, a smile touching his lips, but his voice was betraying his appearance.

Matthew nodded as he stared at his brother climbing down the stairs, "Hey….I spoke with your doctor today." He murmured gently, touching his hand over his brother's shoulder. "He wants you to speak with him about your addiction. It'll help you." He replied before disappearing into the living room and turning on the television.

The younger twin sighed. Was he this childish for his brother to make him his own doctor's appointment?

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Now that he thought about it, he rarely spent time with Alfred anymore…in fact, Francis was his main obsession. And even though he still loved his brother, and wanted to be with him, the other man just kept pulling him farther into his arms.

Last night, he and the other had their first kiss. And it tasted so sweet; it was his new addiction. Francis was his new comfort source.

The way his tongue had gently opened its entrance to his mouth; the way they had played with each other teasingly as they jabbed themselves, and laughed. It was an entirely refreshing romance.

But…He couldn't help but feel that maybe he was making his brother lonely?

That maybe, while he frolicked with the Frenchman, his brother was working in his office; suffering a loneliness that he couldn't solve or put together. Maybe, Alfred was suffering so much?

Maybe he was stupid, maybe he was just so ignorant he couldn't tell what Alfred was doing? He had noticed his brother was getting a lot more depressed lately. He was beginning to realize it when Alfred skipped lunch and barely had any dinner for the whole week.

His twin's excuse was always about work. He always had to finish a graph, an outline, a document, a promise. He always had to stay up till 3 in the morning and go to work at 6. He always had to come home at 12, always had to skip almost every meal (save the coffee). And he always had to look so depressing and lonely.

But maybe it was just his imagination? Because Alfred always had strange emotional cycles when they were children, so this might just be one of his days where he was as depressing as ever?

But he didn't know.

He never knew.

He never understood his brother, not at all.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand, and it was inevitable for him to reach where his brother's mind wandered.

Alfred was sitting in his office, and he was just curious as to see how his brother was doing. In fact, he hadn't spoken to Alfred as much as he should since they were living together, and so, it was only right to see what Alfred was doing…right?

He remembered staring at the brass knob with hesitation. He asked himself, should I open it and barge in? Or should I remain silent forever?

Deciding that it was best to have that same bond they grew up with; deciding that it was best to strengthen everything again. Matthew opened the door shyly.

"Alfred?" He whispered softly in the dim lighted room, poking his head out bashfully from the side to see what his twin was up to.

"Matthew?" That voice belonged to Alfred, and it seemed that his brother was in an awful pain as his tone dropped in a frustrated level. "Go away." His brother panted in exhaustion, as he stared at him with dark circles under his eyes. "Just…go away, I'm busy, Mattie." He tried to compose himself, but he failed miserably, as he began to seethe.

"What are you doing?"

Alfred just stared at him.

"Nothing," he replied blandly with malice in his tone.

He had never heard such an awful dip of hatred in Alfred's normally kind voice. It hurt as his brother just stared at him emptily while hugging his arm with a strong pressure.

"Alfred, tell me." Matthew whispered, continuing to ignore his brother's command.

"Nothing, just get the hell out, damn it!"

His brother slammed the door shut as soon as he stepped out.

And slowly, Matthew began to understand where they were heading to.


	24. And You And I

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Four: **And You and I

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**Author's Note: **The end of the arc! I'll be getting right back to Arthur on the next chapter! Woohee, I hope you guys don't mind. I have two tests next week and a paper due early on the next week as well, so it'll take me longer to update! So its official, _Somewhere, Across the Elysian Fields_ will be my next long story. I will, however, put a couple of one-shots, just to stimulate my mind!

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"Get out…" Alfred's voice whispered softly as he stared at the closed door with guilt. He knew he shouldn't have been so rough to his brother, especially since Matthew had decided to spend time with them together. It was rare for his twin to come over and check up on him; and he was so surprised, he forgot to remove the needle as soon as his brother's head popped up.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" Matthew was continuing to ignore his demands to get out of his room. His younger sibling immediately understood that he was hiding something, but damn, he couldn't help it!

He was growing insane with the amount of work he was assigned to do, but this was all for Matthew. Everything was for Matthew, because he had to pay his mother back. He had to pay everything back; he owed her, he owed her for his life. He owed everything he possessed.

"Matthew, damn it, get out." He grew even harsher as he finally plucked the needle out secretively from his sleeve, and decided to just put it in the corner of his desk seeing how his brother wasn't going to budge any moment. He sighed in frustration while he hugged his arm and just gazed at the younger twin with an annoyance in his eyes.

He never showed such sentiments to Matthew before, but he was just getting so angry at his twin! He loved Matthew, yes, he did, but the small little brat was always getting in his way! ALWAYS. Wasn't this for his brother? He needed time to himself, and he knew Matthew wanted to hang out and everything, but god he had graphs to finish, calls to make, screw lunch and dinner, he had no time! The only free time he had was the moment his brother was interrupting him, and he needed to relax. He needed some drugs – but he didn't want to look irresponsible.

"But Alfred-"

"Get the fuck out." He whispered in a venomous tone, and he almost, ALMOST wanted to punch his brother in the face. If it wasn't for his reasoning and his guilt plunging deeper into his soul, he would have already done so – but he remained calm as he squeezed his arm harder and decided that maybe just pushing his brother out was the better thing to do.

And that's what he opted to.

Yes, he understood they had rarely have quality time like they used to when they were children. And he wanted to have time with Matthew too, but they never could find time. Matthew was always with Francis and he was always with his job.

It was like a cycle of actions, and they would never really get together unless a miracle happened and Francis somehow vanished while his job seemed to work out by itself.

He would have made time with Matthew in his schedule, but this week and the following were going to be so full, he just couldn't meet up to his brother's expectation.

_He never could meet up with his brother's expectations._

And there he was, stressing over the fact that he had just pushed his own twin out; and he still had stuff to do! He sighed, and decided that maybe taking some pills would help him relax. He didn't care how much he needed; as long as it kept him from stress it would be useful for him.

_It would be useful to him and Matthew._

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Matthew stared in wonder at just what had happened to him. Alfred had just pushed him out, didn't he? Alfred had just blatantly told him he had no time for him, didn't he? He could feel his heart swell with so many feelings – but screw Alfred! Matthew knew that he had Francis.

If Alfred wanted to be lonely, then he would make him lonely.

He didn't know why, though, but when he was climbing down the stairs; he started to cry. He started to cry, not because of his brother's harsh shove or behavior, but because he could already sense that their bond was falling apart. It was crumbling, and even though it was a filial bond, even though they were siblings, it was still like glass ready to break in one more wrong touch.

If he had the courage, he would have gone back and slapped Alfred – but he couldn't.

Alfred was sacrificing everything for him; sacrificing all his time, all his money; _everything_.

He couldn't – he would seem as selfish as ever.

But what was wrong with that?

He was the most selfish person he knew.

He began to cry louder, as he sat on the bottom step; the doorknob turned, and damn – he forgot to close the door again out of his haste.

"Mathieu, is that you?" Francis whispered softly in the room, his head poking out to find him on the floor, sobbing.

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The next time, he could feel himself breaking further. He had just compared Alfred to their father (that drunken bastard) and Alfred had hit him back in complete fury.

What was strange though was Alfred looked in the verge of breaking down as he insulted him, and his twin slammed the beer bottle down hard at the floor while dashing back to his office with no more words.

He sat there, staring at the bottle and reflecting how it was like their relationship.

The bottle was half empty, but it didn't matter anymore now that it lay on the floor with all its contents scrambled and the shards sticking out; sharp and glossy.

Matthew scooped down to pick up the tiny pieces carefully while tossing them into the waste basket before cleaning up the rest of the mess.

He wanted to cry, and go up to his brother; maybe apologize but tell the honest truth of his opinion on him, but – his brother was still sacrificing everything for him.

He was still so very selfish.

But even though he was lavished with almost anything a person could imagine, his life was still full of hell since his brother begun to drink and use "prescribed" sedatives because of work. And what was worse was Francis, even though they begun to date frequently and have been seeing one another almost every day, was beginning to make his relationship with his brother much more worse than it should have to be.

"He's hurting you! He's a good for nothing, leave him!" Francis had drawled out trying to comfort him one day, but it had ended bad as he took it differently, and Matthew remembered slamming the door in front of him.

It was terribly rude of him to, but Francis was in the wrong. He was dead wrong about how stupid, cruel and a good for nothing American his brother was. His brother was kind, and he knew it! He had been there – he had seen Alfred's kinder side, he had seen the maternal instinct, the considerate man, and he was lavished with Alfred's everything.

He was lavished with everything his brother had to offer.

He was the complete opposite of a "piece of trash." In fact, Matthew believed strongly that Alfred was something more special, more valuable than what Francis had described him as.

So, Francis was wrong.

Because Francis didn't understand, that Matthew was the "piece of trash" of the relationship.

If he was never born, maybe then Alfred would have not to deal with him. Maybe then Alfred would be successful and happy?

Maybe their parents might have not broken up? One child wasn't as bad as two children during a financial crisis. Right? He didn't know, but he found out his existence was just a hindrance to his brother. He did nothing, he could do nothing, because he was already cast down in the abyss right as soon as he was born.

Maybe he should just disappear and die?

Maybe he wasn't good enough for Alfred? Maybe he just wasn't good enough to help him? He did nothing, anyways.

He was just like a useless pile of meat in the corner of the room doing _nothing_; absolutely nothing.

Then again, Alfred was always lonely.

Maybe he was born for the purpose of keeping his brother happy? But he was failing….he didn't know what to do.

He could remember how his brother always played alone, by himself, unless he tied to introduce his own friends to Alfred. But people already could sense that strange quality in his brother. They could immediately sense that strange intelligence, brightness, that intense knowledge written all over the child's blue eyes.

He remembered how his friends always gazed at him with either jealousy or bashful admiration. He was what his classmates had told him, "too perfect." And even though his brother was usually the last in their class, they immediately understood he had a potential inside him that kept them away from him.

He was a new category of intelligence.

"I can't do this by myself, Alfred…" Matthew whispered as he placed the rag in the sink and began rinsing it repetitively with soap in order to rid of his alcoholic stench.

He knew he had to do _something_ to keep them together. To keep their bond from breaking, he needed a plan. He didn't need Francis, he needed his brother. He had always needed his brother more than anyone else; he depended on Alfred in every way. And even though he hated it, he was used to it.

And no, his brother was not an addiction, he was a necessity.

And if he ran out of his brother's warmth, his aid; then where would he go? He didn't want to have to depend on anyone else, but he knew he would. He would probably go to Francis and be the same – and he didn't want that.

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After the one-sided argument between him and Francis, the two decided not to bother and talk to one another until they could find their hearts in it.

This argument, however, was ideal for Matthew as he found room to hang out more with Alfred who didn't seem to mind at that time.

In fact, Alfred had begun to eat a little more than usual, and he was a bit more cheery; and rarely used his sedatives. But he still depended on the beer, he heavily depended on it.

"How did the meeting go?" Matthew asked as he stared at his brother who opened the driver's seat door and got in with a small unsatisfied frown on his thin lips.

"Okay," he muttered softly back, while sliding his bangs back, smoothing them from his sight, and began to pull their car in reverse in order to back out of the parking lot.

There was a can beer in the cup holder, and Alfred just took one swig of it while noticing the strong taste and cursing lightly before placing it back in the holder.

"Where you bored?" He asked softly, while gazing at the road with minor interest. Matthew shook his head; although it was a lie. How could he be so patient in a 2 hour conference with nothing to do in a car? "Liar," his brother chuckled while getting another strong swallow of the beverage and glancing softly at the turn they were about to take. "Gosh, this is boring." He drawled on while tapping the steering wheel with an upset feeling.

Matthew understood that his brother had been drinking in the conference (what kind of conference it was, he didn't know. He suspected it was probably one of those stripper party conferences his fellow employers had every month), because right now he could tell his brother was fully drunk at the moment.

"It's kind of sad, really…" Alfred continued to speak while glancing at the traffic light, cursing for it to change to green. "I feel sorry for the three Asian marketers across the street from the coffee place." He muttered glancing at his beer can for a while, pondering about how much left was in it. "I promised them I would pay for their shop as long as I'm alive," he whispered, his blue eyes shimmering with a lethargic laziness. "But we all know they won't last with my coffee business." He scoffed, a sad grin taking the form of a pretty smile.

His brother did not know what to say as he gazed softly outside, thinking of something; something that could connect the both of them together.

Matthew just stared gently outsides, hoping that maybe in a couple of seconds he could think up of something that would make his brother proud or laugh at least.

He hadn't seen Alfred laugh in ages.

"Francis told me, even though we're not talking as much anymore, that he'll get Arthur Kirkland to meet me somehow." He replied bashfully, knowing full well that Alfred would be humored at the so called, "Spirit Boy." "He said, it'll be hard to get him, but he knows a few tricks up his sleeves – even if it may be a _little_ violent." Matthew smiled, turning pink as he grew quite excited of meeting the famed and magical Arthur.

Alfred smiled, laughing a bit, but it wasn't the laugh Matthew wanted to hear, or the smile he wanted to see.

"You mean that crazy lunatic?" The other boy replied, chuckling rather maliciously while turning the car and gazing quite amused at their surroundings.

"He's not that bad, Alfred...at least I don't think he is….," quipped the other brother as they got onto the highway, heading towards home because Alfred _insisted_ that the headquarters should be made in another far away city besides the town they lived in.

"Bad? He's awful!" Alfred replied turning a heated red as a car surpassed them with an intention to race. Alfred would have normally been passive about the whole thing, but his alcohol level was getting the better of him and he pushed the pedal a little more hard than he should have.

"But Arthur knows magic! At least that's what I've heard, and you like magic, right?" Matthew continued to try and pull his brother into liking the other man on subject, but Alfred was busily paying attention to the road ahead of them. "And, and, you might be interested in him! He can help your business with magic!" He drawled on, but Alfred was proceeding to ignore him.

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Their lives were going on in the same circle Matthew dreaded and wanted to break.

To be honest, Alfred too wanted to break the circle's spell; however, his feelings kept getting in his way to budge and make a difference.

He didn't want to give up on Matthew, just like he had given up on himself at the point. Yes, he had grown fond of alcohol and yes he continued to have some sedatives even though he claimed he "quit" on them, and he strongly believed Matthew knew all about this, but was too scared to approach him.

The two had evidently found themselves on parallel lines of the circle. And now they found themselves drowning in its sad song.

Francis had deliberately decided to remain silent and ignorant of Matthew after having the huge fight, and the two were not seeing one another; considerably, deepening the drama that was to unfold.

And Matthew never got to see Arthur, even though he wanted to. The young lad thought desperately of seeing the other male, just to see if Arthur had a trick up his sleeve to help him out with his huge dilemma. Unfortunately, after Francis continued to ignore his home calls or voice inboxes, Matthew seemed to have given up on life as well, just like Alfred. And his chances of seeing Arthur ran to zero.

The circle was taking its toll on all of them. Alfred still had his job, so he couldn't be with Matthew, who had nothing left but the thing he didn't want the most: Alfred.

"So, where do you want to head off to?" Alfred replied staring at the emptiness of the road while his brother decided to drive them to a special restaurant for his birthday.

Matthew wanted to do something good for his brother, for once, and he wanted everything to be especially perfect. Matthew only smiled, telling him in an airy voice that it was about two more miles away, and that Alfred should sleep if he was tired of waiting.

"Jeez, won't tell me, huh?" Alfred replied with a smile forming up on his thin lips, he was obviously delighted to have his brother prepare him such a special gift and he laughed softly while touching his forehead in a way that made Matthew's heart flutter as his bangs fell to the side of his face.

Alfred smiled truly for once, as if he was anticipating a great surprise that may lift his burdens off of his shoulders. But Matthew knew, that even before their dinner would end, Alfred would reduce back into his normal ways: depressing and lonely.

He earned a light chuckle from his brother who seemed so tired of life, and Matthew had to stare softly back at Alfred who just gazed emptily at the world around them.

_The world, with all of its vast and glory, just seemed to be all of a suddenly empty for the both of them._

Matthew didn't know why, but, the world always made him feel that he owed so many things to everyone and everything he encountered. That he and his brother were chained to hell and heaven, and had to risk everything for the sake of everyone.

But, the thing that made Matthew severely upset was it was always Alfred sacrificing more for the two of them, just to appease God and the Devil and whatever was in between.

His brother was getting so tired, everyone was making him angry or depressed, and occasionally Matthew would get to see the grown man cry in desperate frustration.

And the two of them would always find their hearts breaking. Every second of every day their life remained unchanged but bound to guilt and promises, and it was a terrible forever reaching their inevitable destiny.

And that was when realization hit him. It wasn't his brother and his relationship crumbling. It was the world that was crumbling. It was the world's fault. It was the world making them crazy.

"Just go take a nap, we'll be there shortly." Matthew replied, biting his lower lip as he stared at his brother for a second, seeing the young man slowly daze off in a matter of seconds in agreement to his demand.

It was the world that made them this way: depressed and lonely. It was how the people stared at them right after their parents claimed divorce; it was how the people gave their feigned condolences to his brother after their mother passed away. It was how Alfred started obeying his employers, how his employers mistreated his ideas and intelligence. It was how he and Francis fought, that made both his sibling and his' life so miserable.

The world hated them. It took every bit of happiness they had away. The world stripped them from their childish beliefs, and hallowed them into people left only with sadness and loneliness.

It was so unbearable, that even Alfred and he couldn't console one another due to the emptiness left inside of them.

Alfred tried so desperately hard to keep him happy, to preserve his inner child. His brother sacrificed his own cheery demeanor for a promise he made to their mother long before her when they were children.

He told her he would make everything better for him, if their father continued to treat them in such a rude way. He told her that he would be the man of the house, and that he would replace the abusive, drunkard. He would make the both of them happy, and if possible, without any sadness involved.

Tears began to tremble down Matthew's cheeks as he stared miserably at his slumbering sibling.

Alfred looked so peaceful in his sleep; it was beautiful to say the least, how he stopped caring for the rest of the world with just one point of rest. Sleep was a moment of reprieve from the world torturing him. His brother, dare he say it, looked like an angel – finally receiving the bliss he needed from something that had bound him with a chain and stuck him, stabbed him, and stripped his wings off.

"Good night." He whispered softly, kissing his brother on the forehead, before paying attention to the road.

The midnight was dampening a bit; it's cobalt blue shaded with a new tone of gray as clouds began to take part in their ceremonial tradition when it came down to a rainstorm.

At first, small drops of water pattered against the windowpane, and Matthew thought that, maybe God was crying for the both of them? Maybe this was a sign to later show that they would be forgiven or relieved of the burden weighing heavily on their shoulders?

He let out inhale, and closed his eyes for a moment, just to relax.

Even if God had forgiven them, what should he say? How should he respond? Through all the torture they had went through as children who were violated, abused, and tortured with burned memories of their mother's fights and deaths, what should he do? Did that mean he should accept the forgiveness?

The only answer to him, to relieve them of the world they carried, was nothing but the end of everything for them.

But they simply had no power to overcome such a feat, but the end of their own, miserable lives.

It may seem like a sin to God above them, and yet, could he not really be forgiven for something that troubled him every day? Could God not accept him into his open arms, when the world simply would not, itself?

Tears ran through his eyes, and his sight became more blurry.

What was he thinking about? He was such an idiot – and yet, it was so tempting…

Alfred was asleep right at the moment, and he had the chance to commit the awful sin.

Matthew's forehead crinkled as he gazed forlornly at the empty streets. There was no way he could kill themselves…He didn't want to…but it was the only choice left for them, to preserve their breaking bond.

He loved Alfred so much, but lately, the other man was ignoring him – the other man was losing his interest, and the other man was becoming dirtier than ever before.

Matthew's heart pumped so quickly, blood rushing to his hands as he stared unknowingly and questioningly at the road that lead him to their fate.

"Forgive me, Alfred…" He whispered, staring down at his brother who lay there beside him with a smile gracing his lips. "It's come to this, but I want to let you know; that this is….this is better than the world we live in, right?" He smiled almost crazily, while wiping his eyes, and turning the car around.

But there was so much future left….

There was so much happiness to find if ever the present would stop torturing them.

There were still miracles of God left to see….left to be heard and spoken far away.

Matthew's heart fluttered as he drove on the opposite side of the road. This was wrong….he knew it was wrong.

"God dammit, I'm so stupid!" He cried with a laugh, but heard a honk coming from the direction he was heading to.

A yellow light shone in front of them, and he gazed, eyes wide with horror.

He wanted to turn, but he only got a slight chance of turning the car a bit; maybe lessening the impact. But with the speed and the car coming right at them, he knew they wouldn't make it. Well, at least he knew _he _wouldn't make it. At least Alfred would still be able to live…

Turning his head in a speechless terror, the younger sibling stared at the other.

Alfred was still asleep in his angelic form with a smile gracing his lips; and Matthew had to ask himself, "could Alfred ever smile like that again in their next life?"

A painstaking cry screeched through the midnight air, and the rain began to pour more heavily than before.

But after the cry, it was as if nothing ever happened. Only the sight of gray smoke blending with the dark heavens could be seen, but no noise was ever made.

It was if the world didn't know at all.

It was if the world didn't even bother to show any sign of worry.


	25. Return to Reality

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Five: **Return to Reality

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**Author's Note: **Finally, we're back to Arthur. I'm sorry for the delay! I have 3 tests next, next week and I'm absolutely clueless with what I have to study; so I might not update till farther later on. I HOPE TO though!!! _Read & Review please!_

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Kiku didn't know what to think about Arthur after having called him several times for the past three hours. The other male seemed like he was ignoring him. In fact, Arthur seemed like he was trying to ignore everyone else in the world.

He didn't return any of his voice messages, he didn't even call back to apologize for his rudeness, and what's more the way Arthur was giving him a cold shoulder just made him irked or even a little depressed.

Did he do something wrong? Or…had something terrible happened to make his boyfriend so miserable?

Could he do nothing about it? Could he not make Arthur happy? That was the scariest thought that could ever cross his mind because honestly he loved the feeling of being in love…and he didn't really want to let that go.

But Arthur somehow was sending him a message that their relationship wasn't going to last if the thing, person, whatever making him miserable wouldn't stop.

Kiku let out a sigh of defeat as he put his cell phone down and gazed sadly at the awful object. He wanted to throw it down on the floor, and yet that was very out of character for him, and he especially couldn't throw it – well, not with his younger brother beside him.

"He didn't call back yet?" Im Young-Soo piped up as he stared at him with those wide, childish eyes. His cheeks were a bright pink as he let out a charming smile for a small boy his age. "He must be really bored to be all alone." He murmured while popping a chocolate pretzel in his mouth, humming a strange made-up song as he toddled over to turn the television on.

"Well, I guess he is…" Kiku let out a smile while staring at his brother who plopped on the sofa beside him. "…Really lonely…"

"No, I-I don't think he's lonely." The other boy claimed while changing the channel into a program especially made for children. "He has his magic friends!" He smiled staring at the other male who seemed rather perplexed about the other boy's response.

He had…his magic friends….

"Yes, he has his magic friends…" The older child murmured softly, staring at the younger brother with a frown escaping his pinkish lips. "Maybe I should visit him?" He sighed, twirling a lock of his raven hair before standing up and gazing at the digital clock. "Yeah, I think I'll go see him – Im Young, tell Wang that I won't be back till around 6 or so."

**--------------------------------------------**

The morning would have been absolutely beautiful. The golden light was shimmering over the landscape, filtering through his room and lightening up the whole dark house with a sense of hope and a marker of a new day.

It would have been a very wonderful morning. It would have been one of the most beautiful mornings he would have ever experienced in his life.

The weather was absolutely perfect. The whole world seemed to act into a nice symphony as the wind played along the tree branches, and the sun just kept shining like there was forever.

And the sky…the sky was like a heavenly blue smiling upon the world with a hope for the future.

It was so beautiful. He would have cried over in joy to have a day like this.

And yet he woke up absolutely miserable.

No words could ever describe how he felt when he opened his eyes to find his bed absolutely empty. To find that one person who made him happy, gone.

It was like a nightmare. A dark vortex dwarfing inside his heart, as he fluttered his eyes open to find nothing but air, nothing but a lonely emptiness that echoed throughout the whole apartment floor.

At first he thought Alfred had left to make breakfast like he usually would, but realization hit him hard as soon as he stepped into the kitchen finding everything…untouched.

He didn't know what to think. Maybe Alfred left to ponder, maybe he left to think of a few things that he had said the past day to make him so angry and sullen? And yet – it was not the case. He knew that Alfred had passed on. He knew that the other was gone, long gone, and the young man would never come back to him.

His Calling Period was over.

Huddling himself up in the mounds of his comforter, the Briton decided to ignore the world, maybe just for the day, week…or maybe month. He nuzzled his head into the crevice of his sheets, and he let out a deep inhale as he blinked back possible tears away from his green-emerald eyes.

God, he didn't know what to think. There were so many things racing in his mind. From profanity to pleas, he couldn't grasp any of his ideas as he lay on his bed; lifeless and unmotivated.

He was sure he felt Alfred's touch when he slept last night. He swore he could feel the strange coldness Alfred left as the ghost's fingers gently slid across his own fingertips and his forehead touched the crook of his neck and even…if he dare wished so, he could have felt the harsh but sweet lips of his graze his own forehead with a maternal protectiveness.

Why didn't he wake up? Is what he wanted to know? Why didn't he wake up to that gentle and pleasurable feeling? Why did he not slowly open his eyes to see those last warm sapphire eyes gaze up back at him with that feeling of hope and kindness? Why couldn't he see Alfred for the last time? Had he lost miserably to slumber? Had he lost miserably to himself?

He let out a pitiful wail as he muffled his mouth against his blanket while cursing all the while of his stupidity.

Kiku had called several times and he didn't call back. He knew the other was worried about him, despite it being morning the two would usually chat in the phone with love remarks and all of _that nonsense_, but damn he couldn't return any calls, he was too busy drowning himself in a gloom that he knew would never go away unless he could forget.

But the thing was he couldn't forget.

How could he forget someone who had shown him something so special? The ghost had practically reintroduced him to the world he had shunned away due to its lack of magical properties. Alfred had basically made him fall deeply in love with what he had been missing; and he made him appreciate things he would normally dislike.

The damn ghost had imprinted his own image into his mind. Alfred had engraved himself deeply into his memory – even one image of his smile or a flash of his blue eyes made him cringe in a desperation he had never felt before in his life.

Every memory with words made him cry, every memory with a sensitive touch made him plead to God to give back the man he had somehow, dare he say it? Even maybe have ….fallen in love with.

Yes, he knew nothing about the real Alfred F. Jones and yet if Alfred could come back he would want to know everything about the said man.

He would ask for anything to see the other again because he was so horribly addicted to the dumb twat. He would do anything! He would sacrifice everything, e_ven if they had to restart everything, all over again._

_"Hey…are you okay?" _A muffled voice spoke gently as he lay lifeless against his bed. His deep emerald eyes were listless and shaded into a monotone green as he just lay there doing absolutely nothing, but thinking of Alfred. "_Arthur…? Arthur Kirkland!" _Mina stared at him as she sat on the edge of his bed with an expression of concern. _"Hey….there….everything is fine…" _She muttered while softly smoothing away strands of his hair that seemed to stray across his deadpan gaze.

"No it's not…" He muttered back in distaste. A venomous tinge of annoyance dipped in his words as he glared at her while covering his face with a sense of shame and guilt after.

He had not felt so depressed ever since his parents denied him as their child when he was labeled as a "lunatic" by the town, itself.

But this depression, it was worse than his parents disowning him. No, because this time, he loved that person who left him. He loved that person so much….and he felt the strangest pain of grief strike him in the middle of his heart.

Mina stared at him with discomfort as she watched the Briton hide himself away from the world that basically hated him. _"…You still have Kiku…"_ She whispered softly, staring at the Briton who wasn't moving any inch.

He was adamant in keeping his position and he was controlling his emotions very well. But deep down, both Mina and he knew he was going to crack any time soon.

Her words deeply hurt and puzzled him. Yes, he did have Kiku…the love of his life. However, there was something unsettling in the truth Mina revealed. Kiku was a crush, now a lover, and yet he was still unsatisfied and the worst part was that….he thought that maybe he found satisfaction through the other man when Alfred was around.

No Alfred, meant no satisfaction, and even if it was Kiku – he knew he would never be able to bear the same happiness he found with the idiot American than with the other.

"Kiku isn't good enough…." He blurted out helplessly and selfishly as he gazed stubbornly at the wall, tears ready to spill. "I I like him…but…I don't know! It's Alfred's fault! It's my fault…I should have never…GOD! Why did I ever have to meet him?" He ranted on and on while tossing his comforter off his bed and throwing the sheets and pillows with fury.

Mina winced at his harsh rebukes, and stared at the poor man who was wasting his life away in a guilt she knew would never fade away.

**--------------------------------------------**

"That bastard thinks he can leave without telling me? After everything we went through!" Arthur had screamed from the other side of the door to particularly no one, and Kiku gazed solemnly at the floor beneath his feet.

He was about to knock on Arthur's door, but he realized that maybe he shouldn't, especially when Arthur had blatantly voiced his opinion on their feeble relationship.

A bitter smile hung on his pallid face, as he let out a weak and grieving sigh. His hands were shaking, but he still held himself in a good composure and his mind was still particularly positive despite his aching heart and throbbing mind.

"I guess….it's the end of us, right?" He whispered softly, staring at the door while leaving a parcel at the front steps of Arthur's door. "_I hope you come back soon, Alfred_," he sighed to himself as he wiped a lone tear sliding carefully against his sculpted cheeks.

He didn't know what he felt, but there was something tugging in the back of his mind; telling him that the reason for Arthur's angst had something to do with Alfred, himself.

"I must be growing crazy!" He laughed bitterly, while tossing his head up; finding the blue skies strangely pretty. A smile grew as he stared at the clouds, but it slowly faltered while he thought about the relationship he and Arthur couldn't have. "Arthur is making me ridiculous." He humored himself while walking away solemnly through the streets.

**--------------------------------------------**

"This time, why don't you quit wearing those hideous suits whenever I ask you to bring Arthur to me?" Francis muttered with a deadpan expression as he gazed at those red-eyes behind the bars. "Seriously, you have caused already so much damage and you are scaring the town!" The blonde barked while glaring at the albino before his eyes softened up a bit. "Matthew woke up….but…I think….maybe, I'll let you have the chance to get Arthur to come here. Okay, just one more time, alright _Gilbert?_" The Frenchman sighed with the pain in sounding so distrustful.

The other man let out a whine while crossing his arms with a pout hanging on his face. "Seriously, Francis – you know how embarrassing it is to talk with him?" Gilbert sighed in complete annoyance while his eyes smiled a little with humor in them. "It doesn't' matter anyways anymore, I found out that I like him! He's like a friend I can make fun of!" He teased as he got up from the jail flooring as the policeman took him out with a rather delicate touch.

"You know I had to waste about $500 to bail you out?" The Frenchman sighed with depressed eyes slanting a bit in concern.

Gilbert stared at him with a quick realization, before he calmed himself down a bit. "But aren't you in...."

"Yes, I used all my money for Mathieu's sake and now I'm in debt." The Frenchman whispered softly focusing on the entrance ahead of them.

"Let's not dwell on this dilemma though; I have some other problems to attend to that I need your help with." He muttered with frustration while sticking his fingers through the mane of his hair. "Last time you wore those awful black jumpsuits, painted masks and what in your mind told you that skating while waving aluminum bats in your hands like a crazy killer was going to make Arthur come to you?" He grumbled while sticking his hands in the pockets of his fur coat.

Gilbert let out a sigh while staring into Francis' unwavering eyes. "I don't know, I wasn't thinking?" He lied while shuffling his feet across the dirty passage in the hallway.

"No, you completely forgot about getting Arthur to me and you deliberately chose to scare him out of want. I lead him to the haunted house like you wanted – you are such a child for wanting to play a prank at this age – and in return you were supposed to take him to me to meet Mathieu! But no, you deliberately chose to follow your own pursuit of happiness and neglected mine own. Now because of your ignorance, you were put into jail and I _swear_ that if you had gotten Arthur to Mathieu anytime sooner, Arthur might have been able to cure the boy's coma and then everything wouldn't have been prolonged."

Francis glared at the Prussian while looking away in an exhaustive appearance. His voice was ragged and he was running out of breath, but even if he was losing some energy for today, he still felt that anger swelling in his chest.

"Has Arthur been influencing you? You're like different now you know that right?" Gilbert sighed as they walked out onto the parking lot to head towards Francis' car. "I mean, ever since you met _Matthew_, and ever since Matthew got into that coma you've been too nice to Arthur lately, it's kind of sad." The man grumbled, kicking a pebble along the edge of a sidewalk.

"…Matthew had a way with words…" Francis ended the conversation, urging the other man to get in the car to change up and find the Briton.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Arthur is a _"magical" _person. How many times have I heard that from your mouth, before? That little American is making you so different – I guess it's ok…since now you aren't a huge pain in the ass and a fucking playboy-OUCH, what the hell was that for?!"

"Just get in the car."

**--------------------------------------------**

He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't talk, he wouldn't even blink – or at least, he would try not to. Arthur stared miserably at the wall next to him. If he could wish for anything, it was to either die or see Alfred again – and seeing how he was totally fed up with the world he believed he would do the former if he could.

_"Come on Arthur, don't be so sad! There's plenty more things to see in the world!" _Mina retorted as she called on the other zodiacs that lay beside him while trying to comfort him.

Makara was sitting beside him; his hooves perched comfortably under his torso while his mermaid tail swaggered back and forth with a rather slow and depressing energy.

Mesa was right next to him; also in an unusual silence while Karka and Tula lightly spoke to one another with concerned and soft whispers.

The other zodiacs snuggled close or gave words of comfort to the Briton who was on the verge to break down even farther than his current depressing state.

It was strange really, he felt like all of his energy was gone and somehow vanished into thin air. It seemed like all the happiness he ever had was drained away and yet despite his depression and fatalistic perspective he had some little hope left.

The Briton nuzzled his face further into the pillow that attempted to give him comfort. Tears had already made their marks on the silk cover case, and his mouth quivered as he thought of what to do next? Why did such a thing happen? Should he forget? Of course! Could he? No.

_"…Arthur…"_ Makara murmured softly while staring at the downhearted man who wouldn't budge or move, but make a sound of regret and a whimper of sorrow. _"…I'm so sorry…"_


	26. The Way Things Are

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Six**: The Way Things Are

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**Author's Note: **Out of haste, and I guess, extra time (I woke up at 7am the past two days) I took some hours to write this chapter to fulfill your reading wants! I'm in a tight pinch right now, two tests this week, and two more next week – and I know absolutely nothing. I promise you. Also, I don't know why I'm behaving so depressed; I have never been _this_ depressed before to actually try harming myself as much as I did the last weekend. Don't worry; I got a psychiatrist for it. I also am in a tight pinch concerning I'm having an issue with one friend who won't do _anything_ to help herself and she basically just asks for the answer straight on. She's stupid, and I don't like these types of people. I don't know how I became friends with her, but she is the epitome of laziness and stupidity capable for a normal human being. Well, she's not the epitome but she's quite close to it. Anyhow, please _read & review_!

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It was like an anchor above his chest; pressuring him to submission and making him realize the inevitability of all that had just occurred. It was a profound sadness that was wrapped all over him; all around him; suffocating him, choking him all by his lonesome self as he waited for time to end – or something _new_ and exciting to happen.

He was completely miserable, and even he had to admit, that he didn't see any light coming up to him that gave him any hope for the future. He was absolutely hopeless, and he didn't understand how all of a sudden his feelings for the ghost had randomly popped out of him and melted him with guilt and pleasure mixed and absorbed into one another.

He lay there holding silent tantrums to those who surrounded him, but he knew he always had the reason to just give up.

He missed Alfred that was it. Even if it may not have been months or years with the ghost; he missed him so much.

He didn't know whether it was due to his emotional character, or innocent obliviousness that made him an emotional wreck once the other man disappeared, vanished, or left to heaven.

He didn't even really know why he was being so miserable even when he had everything he wanted.

But wait, Alfred wasn't here – so that meant he had only a portion of what he wanted. Yes, Alfred meant a whole lot more than any other thing he possessed in life.

He was being stubborn though, uneager to see anyone else; isolating himself from the world in his thick, black room that seemed to be the only haven he had left. He didn't speak, he wouldn't eat (not just yet) and he especially tried his hardest to not batter a lash towards those who actually cared for him.

As Makara told him, "he was being _childish_."

But damn those who had never found a feeling so lovely, so beautiful before! No one could understand what he was going through! He had encountered bliss, a miracle that was only to be lost in a deep abyss and that it would never come back to him despite all the efforts he wanted to attempt.

That feeling was a blend of a happiness and levity he could no longer imagine to hold; and despite him being so restrained from others, he with Alfred, felt at least comfortable to maybe, just for once, relax.

Although he had his moments; his share of time with Kiku that made him lessen his tension with the rest of the world, it was usually Alfred who took him head on to the problem; to fix it immediately. And, although, it may sound a bit introspective, the Briton believed that, probably to Alfred, the sooner the Englishman would get over his pain and worry, the better the world will be for him.

But Alfred was no longer available in this world, and his worries and pain were starting to expand again.

He was in an inevitable position; locked in darkness with a chain all over him and no key in sight.

All the zodiacs were surrounding him at this point, but he wanted badly for them to just leave him alone.

Not even magic or fantasies could end this depression. Mina could try ever ounce of her magical abilities; and she would never even make him high off of her overused powers.

The zodiacs in the meantime just gazed at the pitiable figure mounded in heaps of sheets, curled up into a defensive ball and all the while trying to ignore everything, everyone, and even God, himself. _"…Arthur, you cannot hide away from the truth." _Vrsabha, the Taurus, whispered gently while trying to coax the Briton to recover despite the hard fall.

Other Zodiacs nodded solemnly, and they knew it was cruel to try to make the Briton resolve himself in only a matter of one day, but just seeing Arthur in his isolated figure, _again_, nearly tore their hearts as they stared at the poor being wishing everything he owned would just go away.

To Arthur, now that Alfred was gone – why not the others? Why not the Zodiacs leave too?

Someday they would have to, since Alfred left him; it meant anything was possible.

It was of course, a statement made out of haste, contempt and childishness that had made it out of the poor man's mouth. He had not meant it for the Zodiacs to hear; and yet, for a brief flicker of a few seconds he actually did wish to not have all those around him surrounding him.

He knew that Alfred was probably in a better place, but why did he have to be stuck back on Earth carrying all the burdens of a long gone friend, while the other was sleeping blissfully in a heaven unattainable to most?

The Briton let out a sniffle, as he hugged himself; trying to lullaby himself to sleep as the Zodiacs gave him hardly any good comfort.

He needed to be away from any magic, fantasies, supernatural at the moment.

Anything containing such properties would just simply break him.

It would have been a moody morning, and even darker as the curtains were drawn amongst one another; overlapping the other to hide the sun's peaking rays. Arthur was huddled underneath his comforter, trying to look away from anything that could potentially remind him of the git who had left; and yet, almost everything reminded him of Alfred.

With a defeated sigh, the Briton stared at the darkness only he could create through closing his eyes; and felt nothing but a mixture of loneliness and eternal fear of being nothing but isolated and branded as a freak.

Alfred was the only one who didn't brand him as a freak, and yet where was he now?

_"You shouldn't heap all your regret onto yourself." _Mina's, the Pisces, soft voice gently chided him as he continued to feel the loneliness engulf him and his heart. His breathing tensed up a little as the room grew quieter and the Zodiacs had nothing else to say to try to change him from his darkening mind.

If Alfred could see him now, what would the bloody dolt be thinking? The damn brat better feel upset! After setting him up with happiness, and then leaving him with an abandoned hope. Alfred should feel guilty for leaving him.

Alfred should feel everything for him. Everything bad! But Alfred should also keep those memories they had interlaced and engraved in both of their minds. He should keep those pictures of them walking with one another, silently arguing and even crying and hugging, and the damn angel should just…pity him at least. Show him a sign, maybe?

Or if it was possible, maybe come back to him?

His tears kept rolling.

If not for the sudden knock on the door; the Briton would have stayed in his abode for weeks before making a face to the public.

The door ringing, and the doorframe shaking, Arthur jumped out of his bed feeling an energy he thought would belong to the person he wanted to come back! His hope was significantly increased; and his face lightened up like a child ready to open his birthday presents.

The frame shook with an enormous strength, and despite the doorbells ringing frequently in annoying intervals, the Briton couldn't help but marvel as he took the door knob, grasped it hard, and yanked it open with happy intention.

The zodiacs followed after him with an uneasy energy as they gazed through the door with a small frown plastered onto their animal-features.

"Hey what's up?" A voice Arthur hadn't heard in weeks, made him perk up in a strict tension; and he would have slammed the door shut if it wasn't for that idiot's strange strength. "Come on Arthur! I'm sorry for what I did!" The Albino remarked with a whining tone as he tried to get his head through the open crack left from both of their pushing and pulling.

Maybe he had just let the Prussian win in coming in? He was really tired he bet because the fight over dominance of the door was easily handed over to Gilbert who stood there with a mocking grin hung on his oblivious face.

The idiot probably didn't understand Arthur's predicament, and he probably couldn't care less; but even so, even if the stupid Albino was oblivious to his situation, that ignorant grin perked on his creamy face annoyed the hell out of the Englishman who stood there glancing squarely and a bit indignantly at the figure who stood before him.

"Hey, I didn't come here to be all up in your ass." The other man whispered quite bored while staring at his abode with interest. "I got a message from Francis," he took a deep breath while gazing into those deep, emerald eyes; however frightening they may seem, "and he wants you to meet someone." He finalized with unwavering, crimson orbs.

"Just get out." The Briton whispered immediately.

He had no time to be running amok on errands he probably could care less of. He had more _important_ things to do besides seeing someone he hardly knew, and even if he did know that person it wouldn't really change the state he was in.

"Come on, Artie! It's urgent, and I promise you it won't take a while." Gilbert insisted, but the other man hardly wanted anything to do with the man who scared him to death and in his younger days completely tortured him.

"I said get out, I'm not going there – you can tell Francis and bloody friend to suck it up and fuck off." The Englishman remarked curtly while staring intensely into those red eyes that seemed to have wanted to suck him in.

He didn't know what the other was feeling, but Gilbert's face contorted in several strange twists as he scrunched up his forehead and set his jaw line straight with contempt. He had seen the Prussian behave like this before, and although it seemed unsettling the Briton would not faze from his own thoughts.

He _would_ be staying here.

_"Go on, Arthur, it wouldn't hurt, honestly." _Kanya, the Virgo, smiled sweetly as she stared into him with wide, hopeful eyes. _"I can see there may be something there that could help you-"_

"SHUT UP! Everyone just _shut up_!"

He was growing crazed with all these unneeded suggestions. He would do what he wants, and he would _not_ be mulled around by those he hardly ever cared for.

Again it was a quick statement made out of childishness and depression that had made him to think that way.

"I don't want to have anything to do with anyone anymore."

"Come on Arthur, if you want to know anything about the person I'll tell you!" The Prussian seemed on the verge of begging, but Gilbert was never the sort to start kneeling down, clasping his hands in prayer form.

"I'm sorry Gilbert, but I'm not going to go. You can tell Francis to find someone else to entertain him and his _guest_." He remarked testily while glaring up at the Albino who was growing insane with his shut-in attitude.

There was some hope though, and even the Prussian could see it in those green, misty eyes. He would just have to try a little harder, if he could.

"His name is Matthew Williams! He recently got into a car accident, he was in a coma for some weeks and he just woke up."

"I don't bloody _care_ about Matthew Williams!" Arthur ran his hand through his golden wheat hair. But he froze, as he took time to register the name that had slipped out of his mouth.

_"Let me tell you something, Arthur." Alfred smiled bitterly as he gazed into those emerald eyes. His cold hands gently touched the Briton's forehead as he let out a bright smile that could wake nearly almost anything up; even the sun itself. "It may not seem like it, but…I kind of used to believe in magic and fairytales, and whatnot." He whispered, trying to make the Briton a little comfortable as the thunder shook the apartment, and he could feel nothing but fear._

_He hated thunder and lightning so very much. They were very extraordinary and beautiful lights ripping into deep blue skies; and yet, however beautiful they were they struck you with horrible might; and you could just stare in disbelief and wonder, or you can scream in fear. They were part of nature, and they did not know any better of the damage they could cause; they were nature though, but still…_

_"Stop being a stuck-up." The Briton stiffened as a large wail screamed across the countryside and he shook in fear whilst he covered himself up with his blanket. Damn, he hated looking so vulnerable and yet it was okay to look vulnerable with Alfred next to him._

_"Oh, no I'm not!" The American joked while stroking his hair and gazing down at him like a father to his child. "Honestly, if I probably knew you I'd have thought you were some crazy lunatic running across the street like the others do." He sighed while looking amused at the Briton who just gazed back at him with an equal, defiant stare._

_"Just get to your point, already." He snapped, unable to control his emotions as his blood raced into his veins and his face flushed with red; but not out of embarrassment, no he was simply angry at the Ghost's statement._

_"Well, I'm just saying…I maybe, might, still believe in magic." The American smiled using his forefinger and thumb to show the insignificant length of his belief. It was a small inch or two, but he still had the hope of seeing some legendary creatures. "I guess it's thanks to my brother…" He sighed while staring outside into the night sky. _

_Another streak of light cascaded into a midnight blue._

_"You have a brother?"_

_"Yes," the American chuckled while trying his hardest to not stare into those wide, green eyes. "His name is Matthew Williams."_

_"Why haven't you told me this before?" He seemed disappointed at the ghost's unwillingness to share past information with him._

_"I'll tell you some things about him, some other time." The American muttered darkly, staring into the night sky while shaking in a slight stiffened fervor. "I don't think it's time for you to know, not now at least." He sighed sadly while his breath hitched in an unmistakable guilt._

"Matthew…?" His voice choked and he could feel his heart racing.

"Yes, Matthew Williams, that guy." Gilbert replied, not understanding the sudden change in the Briton's mood swings. "He's been wanting to see you, and –"

For some reason, there was an excitement that rung into Arthur's heart that shook him and gave him some more hope and realization. _He needed to see Alfred's younger brother_.

"-I'm coming."

The Briton had only slipped into a light coat while closing and locking the door in haste to follow Gilbert through town.

Arthur had simply forgotten that the Zodiacs where there, but there was some happiness each sign showed as they watched the young man leave them in a race like no other.

_"Well, if things must come down to it…I'm perfectly fine with it_." Makara whispered gently, along with the other Cardinal signs that seemed to show their own agreement as they gazed at the Briton who was running his fastest towards a nearby Taxi with the Albino. _"I'm perfectly fine with how things are going now…"_


	27. The One Who Lives

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty Seven: **The One Who Lives

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**Author's Note: **Thank you for all of you have reviewed, took time to read this fan fiction and supported me through my hard times in college. Sorry for sharing some of my personal drama, I just have to vent some emotions off sometimes. So THANK YOU for all those who took time to review especially! No, this is not the last chapter, but it's really close now – I promise. _Read & Review!_ All my tests are complete as of this week, and I'm sorry to have made such a huge delay for submitting this chapter. I have new drama though, I'm in love. Oh GOSH, It sucks bad. It was strange - I posted this up but I guess didn't put it up for me - I was wondering why no one was reviewing...scared me for a sec that everyone lost interest.

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He never really liked hospitals. In fact, no one probably did or does now, since hospitals were synonymous with bad luck, hurt anything that was tainted or aligned with "broken." He hated nurses, doctors, and attendants; how they feigned smiles, and waved greetings in various, untamed languages and annoying facades. Their pearly whites are always shining amongst those who have given up hope or have been too hurt and troubled to recover by themselves or with relatives.

These people were completely different from the social norm to him. For some they were saviors; people who should be respected for taking care of those who couldn't do anything without others. Even though others couldn't tell, these people were people no one really wanted to see. Matthew knew.

They were always feigning happiness and hope, encouraging with perfect lies in unwavering resolutions. The doctors would spend probably fifteen minutes checking their patient before leaving, he would know, the doctors rarely had time for even him (who had just gotten out of a month's coma). The nurses on the other hand, took care of him more often than the doctor; but sometimes they would grow bored or tired, and whine in close whispers as they huddled in the far corner of the office alongside his room. There were some good nurses and doctors, but there were more of the worse kind.

Matthew stared miserably at the nurses setting him up in his bed although he protested he had enough strength to sit up already and wasn't in any way too damaged to do things he would normally do by himself. He sat there, while the women and men got to work; taking off his white sheets, setting him up a tray of healthy foods and asking him questions he was certainly getting irked at.

"How are you doing?" One nurse asks politely. She had brown, curly hair and a clear complexion. Her hazel eyes battered with a mocking kindness that made the poor American disgusted as he sat up in his bed. She certainly seemed like a good woman, although he knew that it was the same nurse who had constantly complained about getting up and down the elevator to retrieve certain tools for the Anesthesiologist below them. How in the world, did this type of person get _this _kind of job? He would often ask himself in silence as he let out a timid smile and feigned his own response. "That's good, well, after fifteen minutes the doctor will see how you are doing, alright, sweetheart?" She emphasizes the last bit of her sentence with a wink while she took off with the others making snide comments and laughing bitterly with the other group of workers.

He let out a sigh of relief as they all left in their groups. He hated this place so very much. There were so many fake people; _so very many fake people_.

Francis at the meantime had just come back from the grocery; he tosses his purple, gray scarf tightly wrapped around his neck as he placed the paper bags on Matthew's drawer with a happy smile gracing his lips. "I know how you don't like these types of food." He chirped, pointing at the meal on Matthew's lap as if it was horrendous. "So, I went to the grocery to buy some ingredients and came home to cook you something special." He smiled, taking the food away from Matthew while placing his own dish onto him.

The other male uncovered a very scrumptious, French dish he had concocted himself. It consisted of nicely layered and thinned lamb meet with a variety of vegetables, especially potatoes decorated carefully onto some edges of the plate he had offered. Matthew smiled softly as he gazed at the meal the man made him, and couldn't help but feel his heart flutter in delight.

Although he showed appreciation; however, he demonstrated nothing but an uneasy frustration that made his forehead wrinkle in distaste as he stared sadly at the dish.

Why should he be enjoying his life right now? He needed someone to remind him why life was continuing on as if nothing happened?

Francis stared bitterly at the lad who lay on his bed with signs of hesitation as the fragile blonde picked his silverware and used the eating utensil in a circular motion with difficulty. He was pondering, and the Frenchman knew who he was thinking about, what he was thinking about and what he should do about it.

"It's done already, Mathieu…" The rougher man whispered in an attempt to sound gentle and sympathetic towards the younger male's loss. Even though Matthew was indeed miserable without Alfred, Francis had completely no clue about Alfred's true self; and never really understood the dead twin, not even after his death.

"…You just don't understand." The other male retorted softly while biting his lower lip and gazing shyly away to stare at the window of other tall skyscrapers that stood tall against the sky. "I feel so guilty…you may think it wasn't my fault, but everything has something to do with another." His words were so bashful and curt that Francis just seemed to shrug them away as if they were words of incompetency.

"You are just exhausted, after your meal you can go sleep – and then I will wake you up later." He smiled while trying to get rid of the topic that was ready to bloom into a big depression. "I have a surprise for you when you wake up," he added delightfully while spooning a part of his dish into the younger man's thin, wet lips.

Matthew let out a soft sigh while pushing the spoon away lightly with his fingers. He gave Francis a deviant glare before covering himself back under the sheets.

Francis stared brokenhearted as he gazed at the lump formed underneath the covers.

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Arthur stared softly at the hospital building; his heart was thumping with ecstasy as he gazed in wonder at the pure-white tall scraper that housed a very important person.

Matthew may not know who he is, but he was sure that he would get Alfred's twin to warm up to him and such.

As soon as he stepped into the area, Gilbert left claiming he had other important things to do besides following him everywhere and doing everything together with him. He told him he would see him later, also hinting that he would return sooner or later.

Matthew's number was written in scribble handwriting probably from Francis, who Gilbert claimed was the mastermind of the whole plot of bringing the two together. Arthur let out a sigh of relief and pain as he stepped towards the vast area tiled and patterned with a marble white.

This was strange for him to enter such a building. He had never really entered a hospital before, so all those nurses and doctors straggling pass him and smiling with bright grins and twinkling eyes made him step aback with astonishment on how serious and lovely the people working there seemed.

His heart fluttered on how majestic the hospital was, despite all the sad people it housed for temporary moments.

"Hello sir, may I help you?" A woman behind the counter in the center of the building asked delightfully with a genuine smile engraved on her rosy face.

"U-Um, yes," he was never used to this kind of treatment – but he had to remember that this was a completely different town that didn't even know he existed.

In this city people didn't know he could talk to magical creatures; they couldn't probably care less seeing that these folks were the busy-type, working class while the people inhabited in his town were the poor ones making a living through family shops and tourists.

He gave the woman the room number that belonged to Matthew Williams, and the woman nodded giving him directions of which hallway to take, where to turn, and who to ask for permission to enter the room.

The Briton let out a feeble nod as he grasped onto the notebook paper sheet between his fingers. His heart was now beating so rapidly he could feel his chest aching with a painful pleasure that seemed to rip through him. He was so close to Matthew now. He was so close to Matthew, Alfred's brother. He was Alfred's…brother. He was going to see one of Alfred's relatives.

Taking long strides and impatient steps and turning around corners and running across the halls, the young man finally reached the hallway he needed to be at and took the phone hanging from a closely-locked door and mentioned Matthew's name to the woman behind the counter on the other side of the room.

She let him in with a push of a button, and the automatic doors unlocked, opening slowly like a majestic passageway.

He stared in awe as the room revealed several corridors ranging from numbers of 500 to 510. Heart racing, he stared at his paper again with Matthew's name written on it and walked to the counter with a smile and explaining his situation.

The nurse let out a sweet smile as well, while ushering him over to the area Matthew was held up in.

It was more than a couple of seconds to him, as the door slowly pushed open and the white light framed nearly everything inside the quarters. His heart was fluttering at a hummingbird's rate and his emerald eyes shone with a relief and grief that washed over his soul.

Francis stood in the middle of the room while staring quietly at the sleeping figure on the bed. A small frown was plastered onto his pale and frigid face as he gazed sadly at the youth trying to recover from the car wreck.

Slowly the Frenchman's purple eyes averted his attention towards the opened door, and a smiling sympathy played softly in the violet hues of his gaze. Arthur stared for a very long time at the figure in the bed. He couldn't see his face yet, but he knew he was going to break down if he looked directly at the youth.

"Come over…if you would like." Francis' voice was like honey, sweet and slow as he held onto a bouquet of flowers in his arms. "He's asleep, you can stare at him all you would like if you want." He whispered uncomfortable, while turning around and looking for an empty vase.

Arthur walked close to him, and the door softly shut itself up as the nurse travelled back to her respective area.

It was an overwhelming emotion that drowned his heart as he gazed at such a familiar face. Matthew looked exactly like Alfred, if only a little more feminine, he was just like Alfred.

Biting his lower lip in such a defeated sigh, he took an inhale of breath and closed his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Francis asked noticing the man's sudden form, as his shoulders slumped in such a way that it almost seemed he was about to cry.

"No…No I'm not," Arthur whispered truthfully while staring at Alfred's twin with mixed emotions.

How should he feel? He felt relieved to see someone that was related to Alfred, and yet that person looked so much like the ghost he fell in love with it hurt to see that living person breathe. His hands twitched as he came closer to the sleeping victim, and softly his hands glided against the pale cheeks, and he stroked it like a mother to her son.

Francis seemed alarmed at Arthur's awkward behavior, but did nothing to stop the man from continuing his fantasy or daydream.

"…I'm sorry; it must seem weird for you to see me do this." Arthur replied softly while biting his lip trying to prevent the tears from falling.

Francis' eyebrows rose in suspicion as he gazed at the strange Briton ready to break down any moment.

"…Does he remind you of someone?" The Frenchman's voice asked with a soft politeness that made Arthur's heart flutter with excitement.

Arthur nodded gently as he smiled at the living relative, the last living relative of Alfred F. Jones.

"…He reminds me of a stupid ghost." He blurted out, but didn't seem to care as Francis gazed at him with a strange look in his eyes. "His name was-"

"Alfred F. Jones? You met him, yes? What did he say? Did he do anything? Did he _apologize_ to Matthew? Where is he now? What is he doing at this moment?"

And as Arthur stared at Francis, there seemed to be a desperation written in the other man's eyes. His gaze was so weak, and fragile, and yet he demanded to know if Alfred really had been in contact with him.

"He's gone." The Briton laughed bitterly while pulling his hand away as if Matthew's flesh was acidic. "He's gone, and I didn't have a chance to see him at all in real life." He cried miserably while staring angrily at the mirror in front of him and Francis.

"You didn't need to see him in real life…he was a fool-"

"That's enough Francis." Matthew's voice whispered weakly from the covers, and a pair of amethyst eyes stared from under the sheets towards Arthur's emerald green.

"I've always wanted to meet you Arthur Kirkland."


	28. The Hope that was Diminished

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: **That Hope that was Diminished

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**Author's Note: **Eh, it turns out the guy I began to like isn't even worth it. And I seriously mean it, but I won't get onto detail. Here's a quick chapter! _Read and Review!_ The ENDING IS COMING UP in 2 chapters. And for now, I'm thinking of what background song will be good for me while I write _Somewhere, Across the Elysian Fields_.

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His voice was much more timid than Alfred's, but it held a certain quality – a certain tone that made Arthur mesmerized over his soft vocals. "It is very nice to meet you Mr. Kirkland." Matthew whispered quietly with a shameful shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. He shivered slightly as a draft entered from a loosely closed window, and smiled weakly as he gazed at the Briton for the first or second time.

Arthur nodded solemnly as he took a seat next to the fragile youth and stared awkwardly at the male who looked exactly like Alfred. It was a bit overwhelming really, and Arthur didn't know what to do but bite his lower lip and try to calm him and prevent him from crying like a baby. Francis was beside him anyways, and he was not going to look shocked at all.

"Or....it isn't the first time, is it?" Matthew's voice let out a fluttery smile as he let out a gentle laugh escape his thinned lips.

"P-Pardon me?" Arthur replied, choking on his words while staring at those violet eyes scan him with a sad emotion glazed on the youth's expression. "I don't remember meeting you at all," He sounded a bit rude, but he was baffled at the remark Alfred's brother had introduced to him.

"Ah, so you really couldn't tell?" The boy asked quietly while running a pale hand through his golden tresses. Francis had raised one eye brow at this point and stared at the bedridden male with suspicion. Arthur at the moment was trying to comprehend what the child was talking about, but came to no conclusion as he remained silent.

"Matthew, maybe you are still a bit sleepy?" Francis murmured gently as he strode towards the American while trying to softly push the man down to rest. "I will get Arthur back to you later; I think the nurses had not given you enough time to rest." He muttered eyes down cast towards shimmering violet orbs that dared him to force the other to sleep.

Arthur watched the interaction among Matthew and Francis; the way they bore their eyes against one another with intense concentration and emotion filled with angst and bitterness.

"I'm fine, thank you though, Francis," Matthew commented while getting back up and shoving the Frenchman's hands away from him. The youth than turned his head towards Arthur with a small glisten in his eyes and a frown tucked underneath his cracking smile.

Francis stared away from Matthew; startled and displeased as he crossed his arms and refrained himself from doing anything or saying anything harmful to the younger man.

Arthur just stared, completely engulfed by Matthew's violet gaze – it seemed so much similar to Alfred's intense sky blue; it made his stomach twist as he stared into the familiar…the mirrored face.

The two were probably hurting, Francis conjectured, as Matthew became more eerily silent while Arthur was too entranced to make any remark or even breathe normally. The Frenchman decided it would be a good move to just walk away from the awkward moment, and let the two join thoughts together as he was no part in their strange history.

"I will go and see how the nurses are faring; you two take care of yourselves while I'm gone." The blonde smirked at the other two who nodded solemnly while looking at him with heated up; flushed faces.

Door shutting lightly, Matthew and Arthur were stuck in the same awkward silence that Francis had left.

"So…I heard you needed me," Arthur mumbled embarrassed to find someone needing a person like himself. Matthew nodded while playing with his thumbs in a deep contemplation.

"I heard you believe in magic." The man whispered softly, and Arthur's heart thumped with a strange pang.

"It may sound weird, but I was just curious as to what magic you believe in…." The youth smiled timidly while trying to stare away from those following green eyes.

Arthur was never questioned about magic before because normally no one would want to know about the faeries he saw, the pixies he played with and the unicorns he claimed as pets. No one wanted to really know the magic he was dealing with so the question was absurd to him.

"It's sound stupid doesn't it?" Matthew laughed embarrassed while putting fingertips on his lips and laughing while talking about how stupid he was for asking in the first place.

"No….I….It's not stupid, I was just – "His breath hitched with discomfort.

It was overwhelming to have someone other than him, and maybe Kiku, who believed in the paranormal, the fantastical, and the mysterious abnormalities of the world. He couldn't believe he would encounter a person on this Earth who wouldn't even think of the worse about a lunatic like him.

"…Yes I do believe in magic." The Briton sniffed while taking a handkerchief and dabbing his nose lightly with the soft fabric, "And I believe in almost everything I can see and hear about from my friends." He concluded.

"What friends?" Matthew stared intensely at him like a child who was eagerly anticipating a story to be told during the night. "Are they Faeries, unicorns, or maybe a _ghost_?"

A shiver ran up Arthur's spine as the mention of a ghost poured out of Matthew's dried lips. The Briton looked up with a fright that seemed to have shaken him deep down in the core.

A sliver of emotion swirled inside him as he held onto the handkerchief with a tight grasp. His green, emerald eyes blazed with a fiery ignition that was reducing into a watery light. Matthew's gaze was firm, and he continued to make the other man feel more miserable, but it was never the American's intention to do so.

"I met you one time…during the attic, when you opened the door…" His voice was soft and fragile, and his eyes seemed to melt with a dissatisfied and pained expression. "It may not have looked like me at that moment, but….I saw you – you were as bright as day." He replied, choking on his own words as well.

"What are you talking about, I didn't see anyone – I don't know what you are talking about-"The Briton was in denial as he tried to shove the memory of seeing a broken Alfred stare at him with a feigned smile. "All I did in the attic was got a pair of old packing boxes I needed to stuff merchandise in." He lied, but not even his horrible deceit made the two flinch in remorse.

"You were talking to me, you asked what I was doing inside the attic, and told me Kiku was waiting downstairs," the blonde whispered quietly. "You thought I was Alfred for that brief second…and I didn't know what happened, but I think….for that second both Alfred and my soul was intertwined." He whispered gently.

Arthur's eyes widened with a sheer shock written in his emerald orbs.

"It was sad; I could feel how my brother felt about you. He liked you, and yet he was always tormenting himself; I could feel how cold he was, how his body seemed to not want to even warm up a bit, even if he found a little happiness in him." Matthew's eyes set directly on Arthur who was biting his lips and looking as if he were going to cry. "He really liked you; I just wish you could have heard him scream it out to you instead of chanting it in his head…"

It was like a whirlwind full of surprises that tugged on every string attached to his heart. He was being pushed and pulled by so many emotions that conflicted with one another, he felt as if he were going to break down any second and never be put back into place after hearing such sentiments fall out of the American's sweet mouth.

"I can't…I….Why did I have to meet any of you?" The Briton whispered falling gently on the floor as he slipped out of his seat, and began to sob lightly in front of Alfred's brother. "I can't handle this, I didn't know this would happen – why did God play such a trick on me?" The Briton wailed while trying to laugh it all off, but not a sound of fake emotion could escape from his distraught figure.

"Arthur….you loved him too right?" Matthew asked, staring at the person in front of him break down and look pathetic; just like him….

"He was an idiot at first, and then he became a friend….and then…..I never even got to say goodbye to him," gasped the man who wanted nothing at this point but to be left alone.

Matthew stared at Arthur with interest lighted in his eyes.

"I never got to say goodbye, I was selfish – I, I just want to see him again, if only for one second…" Red, puffy eyes splashed with a tint of pink. Dirty blonde hair cascaded over his green eyes, and his nose was still running but he didn't care at all at this point.

He missed Alfred, he wanted to see him again, he didn't care how long it would take; he just wanted to see him again.

Why was God so cruel to him? He was bullied by making friends with things other people couldn't see, and he entrusted his own promise to himself that he would never be with anyone who didn't believe in what he saw. And yet, the first person he really fell in love with didn't really believe in magical things, and what was worse was he was dead.

It was as if his life was a joke, and that he was cursed with the magic he first believed was a gift.

Matthew stared at the figure, emotionally abusing himself and crying while cursing with all his fervor on how badly he wanted to die and just be with his brother.

"You can see my brother," the patient whispered quietly while staring with kindness at the Briton who seemed so hopeless without having Alfred by his side.

"But I can't guarantee you that he will say anything back…"

A light of hope seemed to have waved over, and Arthur stared at him with a pleading gaze.


	29. The End of Them

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Twenty –Nine:** The End of Them

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**Author's Note**: I'm sorry that updates have been coming in fairly slow; in actuality I'm procrastinating in a lot of things due to intensive contemplation. It's strange how a few people hardly in your life, can make you so miserable or happy. Eh, _read and review!_

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Francis was reluctant when Arthur appeared in front of him out of nowhere and was even more annoyed when the Briton demanded the golden key that led to Alfred's body. He was confused at first, about Arthur's spontaneous behavior, but something in his mind nagged at him that Matthew had revealed to Arthur about his brother, and so he ended up getting into a huge fight with both males who commanded for any entranceway to Alfred.

He knew if he had left them alone, it would have ended up like this. All three males fighting amongst one another about what they should do with Alfred. And yet, Matthew and Arthur both looked as if they needed comfort in the truth; and so, even though the argument ensued – nothing but relief was felt after by all three men.

Arthur touched the solid, golden-colored key and felt the engravings with his thumb; smoothing his forefinger back and forth as he stared at the glint of light the object beamed right back at him. He felt an odd sensation run through him, as he glanced at the golden product as if it were a precious treasure he had to keep from then on.

His heart pounded wildly, and he seemed to feel his heart beat with excitement and a profound sadness that lay deep within him. He glanced back down at the figure, staring at it remorsefully while Matthew sat in his wheelchair, waiting for the Briton to make a move.

Francis grasped his hands on the wheel chair's handle, and gazed at the Briton with a look of hesitation.

Did he do the right thing to give such an important object to Arthur? Out of everyone Alfred and Matthew knew, why did he give this key; this very important object to the pathetic Briton?

Francis let out an upset sigh, while he gazed down at Matthew who seemed to have been watching him the whole time.

A timid smile graced the American's lips as he closed his eyes, signifying that he was ready to go on anytime soon. And a gentle light swayed in his violet-colored eyes as he acknowledged the fact that he did accept Arthur despite being a bit crazy in the head from what others believed.

"Come, let us get going…" The Frenchman whistled at the Briton who was so enchanted by the key between his fingers

The sensation brimming inside him was completely chaotic. A whirlwind of emotion collided with one another as he followed Francis and Matthew to an obscure area below the ground floor. His heart was aching pitifully as he clutched tightly onto the key that he put around his neck in order to keep it to himself safely.

"Don't be afraid of what you see." Francis sighed sourly as he unlocked the chamber and a freezing temperature rung throughout Matthew and Arthur's fragile bodies. It was the reason why the idiotic Frenchman warned them a couple of times, and even forced them into warmer attires. The whole area was completely arctic.

It was a sterile environment; and color-coded with white and silver. Hardly anything mismatched the other in the room; excluding the thermostat that was a hideous rusting brown.

There were large boxes stacked on one side filled with equipment no longer used; while in another side there were fogged up glasses stacking vertically beside one another. Francis pointed at one of the glass with a small frown tracing his lips, his index finger crookedly pointing at the overshadowed figure behind the hazy glass.

There was a halt in Arthur's heart as he stared intensely at the fogged figure behind the other side of the glass. His emerald eyes shimmered with interest as he placed his palm over the box; staring, looking for Alfred – anywhere behind the container.

"Come…let us place him on a table…" Matthew suggested quietly as the intense silence echoed throughout the room with a painful truth.

The twin could have crumbled at any moment as they slid Alfred's icebox coffin onto a slender, maple colored table. He had felt a sudden overwhelming jolt that made him rigid with fright as they uncovered the glass to reveal a very peaceful Alfred.

He could have cried any second, and he could have allowed those tears to flow freely without hesitation. The brother, lying in that ice-cold coffin; was the product of his own mistake. He was an awful being; he was too horrible; why did he do such a thing? Alfred lying there in a pacified state made his heart pound in an aching sensation. It made him remind of his failure as a faithful brother. It constantly tortured him as he stared lost at the limp, frigid body before him.

But for some unknown reasons, that God could only explain, he had found hardly any tears streaming from his eyes. It was as if all his sorrow hallowed into a despair that would disappear quite soon. Instead of softly crying out his brother's name, it was not he, but Arthur who seemed desperate to touch Alfred's hands, and mourn for something he had lost.

Francis at the meantime let out a muffled sigh of relief as to find Matthew perfectly composed, excluding his shaking figure that seemed to rock back and forth with a calm discipline. He had braced himself for never-ending tears; however, the younger twin was doing just fine as he stared into his brother's sleeping gaze with nothing but a soft smile stretching across his pallid face.

"I hate you, I really do." Arthur began while feeling the coolness of the frozen corpse that lay before him. "You're an idiot; you're one reason why I don't want this ability anymore." He sniffed, staring miserably at the man who had made him more comfortable with his own town. Matthew sighed and Francis let out a soft cough as he continued on wailing and complaining of Alfred's misbehavior as a ghost, and he was completely furious on himself as he found himself fall in love with dead man before knowing he was dead at all.

Tears continued to slide gently down his cheeks, but the fervor of the overwhelming sadness had died down a little as he stared straight into those close-lid eyes. "…I don't want this power anymore…if I can't see you." He sniffed softly, "I'd rather be with you than have this….this _gift_."

_"Well, I've never expected the brat to be so __**late**__ in confessing __**this**__." _Mesa grunted with annoyance, as he stepped out of a swirl of smoke created by all four cardinal signs of the Zodiac who hopped out as well.

Makara let out a small smile as he stood beside Mesa, Capricorn and Goat stood side-by-side one another as they glanced at the frozen body of the pathetic human in front of them. Karka, the Cancer, and Tula, the Libra, nodded with an amused grin slathered onto their faces; but some certain sadness seemed to be resonating from each zodiac that had caught Arthur off guard.

_"We've noticed that you've grown quite a bit after meeting this human." _Karka whispered with an aging voice as he stared bright-eyed at the Briton who stared aghast at seeing all 4 zodiac signs together.

It was very rare to see the cardinal signs stand together in one room; partly because most of them disliked one another, and only had a few interests depending on what topic it would be. Karka and Makara had a couple of arguments before; however, they were best-of-friends despite their constant fights. Mesa was completely an outcast, while Tula was the pacifier out of all four leaders.

_"You have changed a lot, Arthur…" _Tula's voice was sweet and pure as she swirled around the young man with a happy smile gracing her lips. _"We were waiting for you to change…" _She admitted while battering her eyelashes and clasping her hands gently with one another. _"We are proud." _

The Briton was very confused as he stared at the Cardinals with complete bewilderment. He didn't know what to do as he bit his lower lip in confusion, and he felt some other sadness weigh heavily on his heart.

"What did I do? I did nothing." He spoke crisply with a thread of fear as the Zodiacs stared at him with either kindness or pity. "I-I didn't say anything." He lied with a falling interest as his voice hitched.

At the meantime Francis and Matthew stared at the crazed Englishman who seemed to look hysterical as he spoke to thin air.

_"Tch, don't lie to me you asshole, you said what you said. 'You don't __**need**__ us anymore.'" _Mesa confirmed while glaring at the Briton with a certain, strange spark in his eyes. _"We've been waiting for YEARS for you to have said something like that. Sheesh, you don't know how happy we are." _His red eyes softened with a calming peace that neither Arthur nor most of the zodiacs have witnessed before.

"No, I still need you! I just, I didn't know what I was saying! I need you! He's-"

"_He's what? It's always been him after he's appeared in your life…" _Tula murmured with a passionate voice, honeyed with mellow vocals."_Do you know what our purpose is?-"_

_ "_I didn't mean it! I need you all." The Briton looked as if he were going to break down. Great, he was losing his only friends after losing the love of his life. God probably hated him right now.

_"Our purpose….was to keep you company." _Makara stared softly into the bleary, green eyes from the Briton who seemed completely in chaos. _"And you have gained the company you need…"_

"What company? I've lost him-"

"_And who said you have lost him?" _Karka whispered with a grin cut across his shell. _"You have lost no one."_

The room turned a strange white; and Francis and Matthew's figures were disappearing with every second in a fading gray.

The Zodiacs smiled gently at him as they let out soft chuckled that faded out as well, and all of a sudden the room was completely silent.

It was an eerie place: quiet and bright, laced with white and a touch of silver. He was alone, and the only thing he could feel was nothing but emptiness and fear.

Silence strung and echoed across the whole room as he stood there by himself; asking for anyone to appear, and cursing out the zodiacs that had left him in such a strange place.

"Damn you all!" Arthur shouted in defeat as he slumped on the floor and gazed at nothing, but his feet that twitched with a strange feeling.

What was going on? He didn't understand, he didn't deserve this, he didn't know what was going to happen next, and he didn't want to know.

"Hey, are you alright?" A sun shining voice asked him with a soft chuckle from behind.


	30. We Will Always Be There

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Thirty: **We Will Always Be There

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**Author's Note: **Oh my goodness, NO, I did not forget about updating this! I promise you, I have study week next week, and I'm using this day to submit this chapter. Sadly, this isn't the last chapter – because my twisted mind decided to make new, interesting information for the last part. So be prepared! Jeez, I didn't think this story would take this long. _Read & Review_, please!

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"Hey, are you alright?" A soft voice echoed in the strange room, and for a second Arthur had to think for a while as his ears perked up from hearing that familiar tone. A small chuckle followed thereafter the sentence, and a heartwarming embrace gently hugged Arthur from the back. Warmth spread all over him, like a sheet of sun that lathed about with happiness and a special smell slowly entered the white area; a smell that belonged to…Alfred. "You're awfully quiet, aren't you?" The voice whispered teasingly while tickling the crook of Arthur's neck.

He was so afraid to turn around; he was so afraid to face what he had lost not too long ago. Was it really Alfred behind him? His heart was racing in a variety of speeds, and his breath hitched as he felt long, slender fingers softly touch his chin from behind.

He was so frightened. He didn't want to turn around, and find nothing but teasing air behind him. He didn't want to see anything or anyone, because he was so afraid that maybe what he was hearing was a trick played by his desperate mind.

All the Briton chose to do, at the sign of the contact, was crouch further down and he tries to cover his ears while humming softly for the awkward moment to go away.

Because in reality, he knew Alfred was dead.

The other man would never come back to him. _Never_.

A gentle sigh escaped from the unknown's mouth, and Arthur wanted to try his hardest to look away, and yet curiosity kept pulling at him, tugging him to turn around and notice a gift – a person, he missed so much.

"You really are a stubborn loser, aren't you?" The tone was just like Alfred's, and yet, there was uncertainty still on his part as he focused his eyes on the clean floor; gazing at the dark crevices of each panel laid out before him. "I should have known you would react this way, shouldn't have I?" The voice mocked him, and yet….he was resolute to not look behind him.

He needed to keep this emotion to himself; he wanted to keep this uncertainty locked in his heart, because he did not want to see nothing in the end; and rather he would have liked to keep what he thought what he knew to himself. In other words, he didn't want to look behind himself and find absolutely nothing. He would rather just have the memory of feeling uncertain of whether or not Alfred was near him. He would rather feel the hesitation, rather than the emptiness.

If only this awkwardness would go away, and he would automatically come back to reality, he would feel fine and (maybe) be done crying everything away. Makara and the other Zodiacs were sadistic creatures to make him meet his worst nightmare, and yet his most desired of dreams.

Locked in his own mind, Arthur began to hum to himself, anything that could make his mind distance himself away from where he was currently at. He needed to distract himself from this awkward situation, and yet nothing could help him as he heard footsteps near him even closer than before.

He tried to jail his mind, trap it in an abyss so he would focus solely on the emptiness; rather than the person beside him. He tried to pretend nothing was going on, he tried, and tried, and tried, but he always found himself nearing tears.

And then, a gentle hand touched the ends of his lower lip, and another hand resolved to stay loosely hanging around his neck. A small tickle of another person's mouth gently brushed against the nape of his neck, and for once he could see golden strands of hair gently sway next to him.

"You really are stubborn." The voice was warm and full of kindness. The same kindness, the first human kindness he had ever heard; he could hear it again.

Arthur's breath hitched as he decided to grab for the warm hands, and hold onto it tightly. Because he had a suspicion that maybe Alfred would leave him again.

He still didn't want to look behind him. He feared that maybe this was some sort of trial, like Eurydice and Orpheus. He was afraid if he looked back, Alfred would disappear from him forever. It was like a painful love story that he hoped wouldn't play in his life.

"Look at me, Arthur…" Alfred's voice was as smooth as honey, and light as a feather; it made the Briton's heart crash down, and wrack with desire. And yet….there was another emotion prohibiting him from obeying Alfred's plea. It was a feeling of understanding and restraint. These emotions collided with his want to see the other man; making him twist in anxiety and pleasure as he tried to think of what to do.

"And what are you afraid of, really?" Alfred's voice whispered with a soft sigh, and Arthur could feel the man's hands slightly leave his shoulders.

This alarmed the Briton, who in quick thought, turned around with brimming tears in his eyes.

He didn't want to feel Alfred leave him again.

It was unbearable once, when he hadn't noticed Alfred's touch leave him. So what made Alfred believe that when he finally felt those fingertips leave him, he wouldn't do anything again?

"Don't go." He blurted out with a frenzy of feelings pouring out of him.

A white light cascaded between the two, and all he could see was a fragment of the American's grin.

"And who said I left?" The blonde whispered fondly, as his hands touched the end of Arthur's chin, and for once, the Briton felt feathery lips touch his own.

Arthur's heart had melted. And he could feel salty tears slip downwards against his silk cheek. He could feel Alfred's nimble fingers tickle the side of his face, as they gently held him to make another kiss.

Why was Alfred here?

_"We are glad to see that the two of you have finally found each other again_." Makara's voice was gentle as the old zodiac introduced himself from a cloudy pit the other zodiacs had made. _"It took us a great amount of power to connect you with Alfred. Not to mention, the American was very hard to find_." The Capricorn let out a sigh of relief as he lay down in front of the couple who held their hands tightly with confusion.

_"Shit, Arthur is always being so complex. Just turn around and see him, why the fuck did you hesitate_?" Mesa grumbled thereafter, followed by a sore Tula and Karka who looked rather grim, but tried desperately to show a smile. _"I'm fucking tired." _The Aries muttered with a defeated breath, lying beside Makara who nodded in agreement.

Arthur stared at the two zodiacs with confusion, and Tula and Karka had done the same.

It was strange to see all the Cardinal signs lay next to the other. It was completely awkward.

"Why are you all so tired?" Was his initial reaction as he gazed at the Cardinals staring at him with a dream-like smile.

Alfred stood beside him, smiling gently at the creatures before him. There was some strange serenity surrounding the American, as he held tightly onto the Briton's wrist.

_"….You had told us you didn't need magic anymore…you didn't need us, because you have found something so much more closer to you than we could have ever been." _Karka murmured sleepily.

_"…Your reality is more powerful than the fantasy you made…so of course, it is only natural that your real life will conquer over us." _Tula joined in with a sing-song sigh, before nuzzling close to the crab zodiac. Makara and Mesa stared at one another, pondering of other things to admit.

There was another strange feeling swirling in the Briton's heart as he stared at the zodiacs stare at him with apologetic, and yet thankful smiles.

Why was he so pathetic? Why was everything…everyone, all of his friends disappearing? Could he not have everyone?

_"Do not fret, we aren't dying, Arthur." _Makara read his mind as he let out a wise chuckle from his goat-like mouth. _"You will just simply…forget us, gradually…as time goes by…you may remember us all you would like, but our existence will seize to exist in your eyes." _

"What are you talking about?" He was close to tears again as he began to feel to lose something important to him. "How can you all leave me? You can't **all **be ghosts in my life! Alfred is still dead, I still need you!" He shouted miserably, letting go of Alfred's hand for a second as he tried to hold onto the zodiacs with horrible strength.

_"And have you learned any fucking thing from that book?" _Mesa grunted, finally speaking as he gazed bored at the Briton who remained silent at his response.

Makara stiffened at Mesa's dry reply and only let out a sigh. "_All F__ake Ghosts__ have some strange link to the Astral World, is that what you mean __**Dr. Miller**__?" _The zodiac rolled his eyes at the other who nodded impatiently.

_ "Shut up! You know how I hate using that name, that damn book __**he**__ wrote was a good for nothing piece of shit. Even Arthur was too daft to understand it, that damn loser." _He spat back, earning a stern stare from the elder Cardinal who only shook his head with a sore laziness.

Arthur stared at the zodiacs who smiled sheepishly or either glared at him. So….they knew all along. They knew what Alfred was all along, and yet why couldn't they tell him?

_"It's not simple, nothing is simple; I hope you know that_." Karka whispered with a dreamy smile as he closed his eyes to partake in an eternal rest apart from Arthur's world. Tula nodded in agreement as she stared lovingly at the child that grew up in front of her.

_"Arthur if we could, we would have told you; and yet…it was not up to us to decide whether you should know it or not." _She smiled brightly while staring at heaven as glitter covered her whole body before she began to disintegrate. "_I hope we see each other one day, again, even for a second_." She sighed while placing her head softly against Karka's back.

Mesa let out a horrible grunt as he stared fearfully at the other zodiacs that began to vanish in thin air. He looked scared, and yet he retained that tough look in his eyes in order to cover up for his more feminine side. _"Don't get this wrong, but…We knew this would happen someday." _He uttered with a grin. "_We didn't know when, and how, but we knew this would happen; so enough crying. This is fate."_

Makara was the last as Mesa's figure disappeared with a fading gray. Arthur stared bewildered at all of his friends who were disappearing. He almost forgot that Alfred was beside him, trying to make him comfortable after everything that was happening.

Why does this always have to happen? Why must he give something up, as soon as fortune bestows upon him? Why was everyone so cruel to him?

The Capricorn let out an understanding smile, as he stood in front of the Briton.

"…_We are not ghosts, so we will always be here…" _His words floated, as his white coat began to vanish and melt with the objects around him.


	31. Sweets First

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Thirty-One: **Sweets First

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**Author's Note: **Winter Break and I already find myself frustrated. Sorry for the long-awaited chapter, the last chapter will be coming up next shortly after this. Thank you for all your patience and _read and review_ please!

* * *

Arthur stared miserably at the emptiness that replaced all of his Cardinal Zodiacs. Why must everything be this way for him? As soon as something good comes, an evil falls upon him. He couldn't understand at all what the world had left in store for his useless, meaningless future. Everything was gone, his magic ability dissolved along with the zodiacs that left him, and he would no longer see anything he loved. He would no longer see anyone he loved; and soon, Alfred too would disappear after just reappearing into his life.

It was how life worked; and yet, why must life always be so full of exchanges?

"Hey, are you alright?" The American whispered gently as he touched Arthur's palm, staring innocently at the Briton who tried his hardest to look stubbornly stoic. "You can cry if you want, I'm here after all." Alfred coaxed him as he squeezed his hand, and embracing him strongly – as if he would never let go.

He would be there for right now, but what about the other days of his life? What about the other hours and other months, and what about his future in general? Where would Alfred be?

He did not want to cry at all, how could he? He had cried so much for Alfred, and now that most, if not all, of his friends were gone – would crying more just show weakness or unfaithfulness? Was he showing too much selfishness through his tears? The Briton remained stiff as he felt Alfred's touch gently smooth up against his bare, cold arms.

Did he deserve this familiar touch? It was warm like a human's, not cold like a ghost's, and he could feel his flesh immediately burn with the strange, sensational feeling.

"Everything will be alright," Alfred inhaled the strawberry smell that Arthur carried with him. His voice was so tender, and beautiful that it gave the Briton hope as the American gently caressed his wet cheeks.

He looked pathetic, didn't he? He could feel his frame wracking with a potential energy and yet he remained calm as usual; trying not to hyperventilate in front of the American who was testing him with all his courage and strength.

He knew he should feel glad that Alfred had remained so far, and that the American was back in his life (if only briefly).

But would everything feel better? Would he ever find himself at rest? How could he forget the special friends in his life? The very thought of forgetting made Arthur so restless and even insane deep down inside.

"Everything…will be alright." The American finally whispered, reassuring the Briton once more, with a smile fleeting on his soft, pink lips, before his breath left him and suddenly Arthur's white world began to wash in colors of reality.

He could feel Alfred's warm touch slowly fade away from him; and the hard grasp the American had over him started to melt away with an alarming speed.

His heart began to pick up speed again, and for a brief moment; Alfred touched his forehead against the Briton's. It was a soft touch, and yet Arthur couldn't but feel reassured by the American and his gesture.

"I'll see you around." The American replied with a merry chirp, and a mischief played in his bright blue eyes. There was some strange aura around Alfred as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a flashing grin that nearly blinded Arthur from its brilliance. His blonde hair was swaying with an intense, overly optimistic behavior; and he seemed much more alive than Arthur had ever seen him.

"W-Wait! Where are you going?" The Briton hollered as the white disappeared, engulfing Alfred with it. The American just continued to smile, waving happily before finally he was gone from the other's sight.

And after seconds, Arthur found himself face to face with a confused Matthew and Francis.

He was back in the basement; the dumb, miserable basement. He was back at the place that should have given him hope in finding something that he had lost.

But no, he lost more than what he expected.

Alfred was gone. He _had_ been gone.

The Zodiacs were gone _now_.

Everything he had now was _becoming_ nothing.

In a mere couple of minutes, Arthur found himself back to reality; the world he detested the most. He stood; staring wide-eyed and estranged at the two blondes gazing back at him with overly worried expressions.

"Are you alright, Arthur?" Francis was the first to speak as his violet eyes gazed down at the shorter man with a sense of sympathy. "It seems as if you had met a ghost." He muttered, but Matthew had quickly shut him up with a hard nudge at his ribs. Francis had apologized quickly thereafter, but nothing could change the expression made on the Briton's face.

Arthur looked wretched.

It wasn't a couple of seconds later that the Briton began to slump down on the floor while inhaling profusely through his mouth as his nose started to run. His eyes were a fed-up pink, and his lips a quivering line that Francis and Matthew could barely notice as it moved so much from the uncontrollable feelings.

They probably couldn't understand what he was going through right now, and so Arthur didn't mind that they were confused or were doing nothing to help him.

He may have looked pathetic at the moment, but he needed to let all the stress go before he could continue on living such an empty life.

Arthur felt nothing. He felt no special connection to the Astral World at all; he could feel no magical entity; he could feel no special power within him. It was _completely_ gone. Everyone he loved was completely gone.

He felt so strangely empty; it was as if his soul was barren and deserted. It was as if all the little bit of happiness he had accumulated in his whole life dissipated in a quick second.

The magical property he held was gone, and he was now nothing. He had no meaning anymore to live.

"Don't, stop crying, please." Matthew's voice was so clear through his random outburst of tears, that the Briton held his head up to see the blonde staring down at him with kind, amethyst eyes. "Alfred hates when people cry, especially if he knows he is the reason for their tears." The American twin responded gently as he stooped down to the Briton's level while smiling his strongest despite his own shaking heart.

Francis also stooped down to Arthur's level; completely confused with Matthew's intentions, but also very concerned for Arthur's well being. His mouth was shut to a firm line, but all his energy conveyed the worry he was feeling for the distraught Briton.

"I don't know what happened to you for the last couple of seconds, but…whatever happened, you still have us." Matthew replied meekly, knowing full well he didn't deserve to say such a thing. Matthew knew he didn't deserve anything, and yet being human he strived to find some comfort from someone, and he still wanted to be with Francis despite the wreck he made in his life.

He wanted to give Arthur hope, even though he knew full well that he, himself, barely had any left.

"_Oui_, you are probably tired, why don't we go back upstairs and get you a warm meal, hmm?" Francis added in while heaving the Briton up by the arms, and smiling once more to give Arthur another boost of confidence in life. "Like, Matthew said, we are here for you." He murmured with a quick blush on his face. He had never felt so overly kind to Arthur like this before that it was strange, but relieving.

Arthur only nodded solemnly as he felt a warm jacket cover his thin frame that probably belonged to Francis. It had become so cold in the room lately, that he had now found himself shivering instead of shaking uncontrollably due to the overwhelming emotions in him. Matthew took his hand, and was ready to lead him out of the place he did not want to look back at for the time being.

"I heard you like tea, so I will ask Francis to purchase you a chamomile one." The American chirped while leading him away from the cold room.

Arthur felt as if something was missing as soon as he stepped out of it. "_I'll see you around."_A voice whispered in his ear one last time, as the door finally locked behind him and he left everything as it should be.

_"Are you sure that he'll be alright if you let him leave like this?" _Epsilon, the unicorn, whispered softly to the Cardinal Zodiacs watching the Briton who was left shaking from the enchanting experience. Makara and the other Cardinals just sighed with a small nod, bashful from the harm they had caused to their very own friend.

_"Arthur is the least of our concerns at the moment," _Karka grimaced as he stared at the American staring bright-eyed at him with a goofy grin placed on his polish-pink lips. _"We have this one to help out, remember?" _He smiled nervously as the American gazed at the Zodiacs who seemed rather hesitant with him.

"_And how do you suppose we help this little one out?" _Tula remarked casually as she circled around the blonde with fondness in her eyes. _"He certainly seems to be very entertained easily_." She smiled gleefully as the American blushed at her comments about his appearance and "human handsomeness."

_"Just give him back." _The last Cardinal sign, Mesa, responded softly.

Makara and the rest of the magical creatures gazed at the soft-gone goat that looked pitifully at the Briton who walked solemnly into a taxi.

_"It ain't fun watching that bastard cry every damn second, y'know?" _He murmured quietly, before turning around facing the American with hard-red, glimmering eyes. _"Damn, and who gave you the get go to tell Arthur that you'd see him around? We hadn't even confirmed whether or not we could you fucking asshole!" _The Zodiac charged at Alfred who seemed to only be laughing his threat off.

"Oh, but I **will** be seeing him around; I can just feel it!" The blonde chirped optimistically as he hovered in the air with the rest of the crowd. "Man, Arthur's life must have gotten boring without us." He spoke dryly while floating around and stalking the Briton with all his available power.

_"Gosh, I hate optimists like you – just give him back." _Mesa grumbled as he complained that he would be getting a migraine soon.

The other Zodiacs seemed to have the very same idea, and yet Epsilon and Makara wouldn't have it.

_"It's not in our interest or power to do so; despite our ability to." _Both replied with saddened eyes. _"If I could, I would." _Makara added as the conversation started to heat up between him and Mesa. He knew that the goat always hated his strict behavior; and he knew that he also hated Mesa's carefree personality; and that the very idea of giving Alfred back was absurd and completely irrational. Yes, Alfred was a very important asset to Arthur's life; but life would get better; wouldn't it?

"_You know, the only fucking reason why I agreed to disappear from that Pansy's life, was because you promised to give this idiot back to that other fool." _Mesa added, and the other Zodiacs began to watch as Makara, for the first time, seemed unsure of his own promise. _"You ain't going to take back your word, __**are you**__?" _Damn, the Goat knew how to bring about his own ire, didn't he?

The Zodiac let out a frustrated sigh as he stared at the other eleven who seemed disappointed at his corrupt behavior. And for a brief moment, he looked at the Unicorn who seemed unaffected by his rash promise.

"_But, do you all know the __**consequences**__ to the action we are about to partake?" _He asked as he stared bittersweet at his companions who all nodded their head in unison.

Alfred seemed confused, but followed the animals' lead as well.

Epsilon let out a small, depressed smile as he stared at the Capricorn who seemed to have been outvoted by his own group of friends to send Alfred back to his world.

_"I will not judge any of you_," the Unicorn smiled with an old laugh that could have made any one's heart melt due to its merriness in age. _"But I will miss you after this, and I hope that I will see you again." _He whispered gently as the Zodiacs gathered around Alfred.

_"My friend, I will see you sometime soon; however long it will take us to come back, I am pretty sure that the next person to meet you and the future young creatures will need someone to guide them to __**our**__ book." _

_ "Of course, __**'Dr. Miller,'**_" Epsilon sighed while shaking his head. "_Makara, you make one strange Zodiac." _The Unicorn shouted after him.

* * *

"You said you once believed in magic." Arthur stated softly as he stared at Matthew who drank his coffee with timidity.

Francis had left early to retrieve some homemade meal due to the hospital's horribly made food and so the two found themselves alone with one another, trying to pass their time with relative ease.

They were sitting on Matthew's bed, careful not to spill any of the dessert crumbs or the drinks as they placed the plastic cups onto the white, polished desk. Arthur was playing with his strawberry cheesecake Kiku had immediately prepared for him once he had entered deeply distraught, while Matthew was chewing softly onto his Crepe Suzette that Wang was eager to introduce for a modest price.

"Oh, yes, I think I still believe in magic." Matthew responded shyly while turning pink. "It may seem strange, but when I was little my father used to tell me so much stories about magical creatures and things; everyone thought he was crazy and drunk (even if he mostly was), and so that's why mother divorced him." He blushed heavily gazing at the Briton who seemed aghast at his response.

"Could your father, by any chance, have communicated with any Unicorn or such?" The Briton asked softly as he stared at the American who shuffled on his white sheets with hesitation.

"I don't really know, I mean, we rarely saw him. He was always away reading books, talking to _something_, so I guess he was, and he was always claiming he had international surveys to make about magic and such. He was ridiculed a lot, and he spent so much money on his research it made us go into a deep debt." He whispered quietly, staring at Arthur who bit his lip in confusion.

"I'm sorry, but he seems so familiar." The Briton responded as he let out a blush for acting so rude to the American. Yes, he didn't know who Matthew's father was, and yet the man seemed so much more personal than he should have been.

"What happened to him, if you aren't so offended by me asking?" The Briton whispered softly, his emerald eyes downcast at the light drink in his hands.

"He just disappeared right after mom divorced him." Matthew shrugged, smiling bitterly. "But I remember that even if he was in his drunken stupor, he told me to never quit believing; and he just left." He added while chewing on his last piece of crepe and vanilla gelato.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the remark.

The door then silently opened, and Francis had appeared with a couple of warmed trays and an exhausted face, "dinner is served." He was able to respond flashily as he passed the trays over the two's laps and pushed the empty dessert cases off of the table with disgust. "Honestly, dessert first is not good for you." He chided fondly while throwing the empty boxes in the recycling bin.

Arthur only growled while Matthew stuck out his tongue playfully at the Frenchman who seemed not too affected by their childish behavior. "**I never said having sweets first is bad for you, though**." He smugly replied while sitting comfortably on a sterile stool. "Sometimes, one must have the sweets first before salt and bitter can enter the tongue." He added taking one small fork of his creation.


	32. Everything is Here

**Beyond Our Sight**

By _Ryukansen_

**Chapter Thirty Two: **Everything is Here

* * *

**Author's Note: **Last chapter of _Beyond Our Sight!_ I hope everyone enjoys this last chapter. Thank you to all those who have read till the end, and have been very patient with such a strange author! Thank you very much! Both of my parents are currently, extremely ill, so please wish them good health? I'm nervous about their health and all, and am very scared; so I will take some time off writing for a while. Also, a very **late happy New Year! ALSO**, this chapter seems rushed, da? But a beautiful ending is always an obscure ending, thanks to everyone!

* * *

"_Even if I realized too late, at least I finally learned that I had always loved you."_

The alarm clock rang earlier than usual solely because it was an important date for him. Normally, at days like this, when the sun was barely out of the clouds and the temperature was as cool as it could get, he would be lying in his bed; staring emptily at nothing, thinking of nothing, but the future that he wished for.

Usually he wouldn't be thinking heavily of the past, it had been a year, and he had known quite sure that everything that had happened with Alfred and him were gone. He knew that everything that had happened was absolute, and nothing could change even if he wished every night for a better tomorrow.

The problem though, was each tomorrow he wished for, always had Alfred in it; or at least the Zodiacs to comfort him. And he knew that those tomorrows would never come to him. They wouldn't come true because it was impossible, even magic couldn't do such a thing; but every night at 11:11, the magical time, he would wish for them in a desperate hope.

He would continue on wishing, even if it was quite inevitable that all of his dreams and hopes would never come true.

But still, he continued to hope.

But, unlike all days, today was one of those tomorrows he had been trying to not encounter. This was one tomorrow in which he didn't want to see or meet. He simply did not want the day to exist, but that would be asking for the impossible again.

He could immediately feel the sting in his heart as soon as he woke up to see nothing but a small sliver of light from the sun peaking through the silvery clouds. His window blinds let out the bare amount of light that seeped through the darkness clouded by his curtains.

Everything was silent.

Everything was, simply, boring.

The Briton let out a stifled yawn before shuffling out of his bed and throwing the comforter carelessly across his room. He stared absentmindedly at the light cracking through his dark room, and seemed to have almost glared at the string of light for waking him up too soon, even if the alarm did ring for him.

Walking into the bathroom, the Briton stared at his reflection in the wide mirror. Green eyes, paler than before, less lively, roamed to see every inch of his pallid face. Straw colored hair glistened through another sliver of light coming from behind him, and he let out a small frown while taking his toothbrush to begin the day.

Today was different; he wouldn't have breakfast for today he would be meeting up with both Matthew and Francis to discuss plans for the Coffee Shop's future. Today wasn't really a perfect time to start up such a conversation; but he knew that both Matthew and Francis knew it was the day of Alfred's burial.

They probably just wanted to see how he was doing, because who knew how depressing he got on this day?

He hadn't seen them in a month too, after Matthew declared to all of a sudden have the urge to travel.

It was evident to Francis and Arthur though, that the younger twin just wanted time away from a place filled with so much agony.

Who knew how many times the poor American twin grieved to himself all because of his careless stupidity. Matthew was simply distraught after Alfred's burial and only just needed time to travel, and last month Francis and him had decided to take leave to some place far away to try and recover.

He let out an amused grin as he dropped his brush back into the cup holder and gazed at his reflection with more anger than before.

He hated this day, but what could he do? All he could feel was a numbness of pain that inflicted throughout his whole body and most especially his heart.

* * *

The golden wind chimes hummed gently from the soft breeze, and the chestnut colored door opened timidly with a small exert of excited force from the being that was entering. It smelled like coffee, the usual, he didn't expect the place to change, and yet he expected to see everything different – he expected to see the world in a completely new perspective, he didn't know why; but he found it that something more was awaiting for him.

"I'm finally back," the man whispers while laying down a leather hat and placing it carelessly on the same colored counter. No one was working for it was a Saturday, and yet he felt the urge to visit the store before anyone else did at this time because he found it that it held some important meaning to him.

He didn't know why, but this small area just gave him a pleasant feeling fluttering in his heart. The moment he stepped in this coffee place for the first time, it made his heart swell with random feelings he thought was strange. He felt sadness collide with pleasure, anger with happiness; they melted with one another as if it was like a distant memory trying to make him remember.

Never before had such a place made him so aroused and awakened by its atmosphere.

And so therefore, he concluded that it was special.

In truth he had never really visited this place often, and yet the words claiming to be 'back' from a long journey made his tongue flick with a strange, foreign happiness. It made the whole feeling of happiness in the cafe more pleasurable to feel that tang of understanding.

Smell coated with the bittersweet fragrance of coffee, wallpaper colored cream and floral patterned, chestnut colored decorations lavishly remained still as he inspected the details of the store. He wishes he worked in this place, he would say, and yet he had his own business to attend; but it meant no harm if he bought it….

He shook his head rather incredulously laughing at the thought of trying to buy a store that was still running well by the owner. Honestly, he would give up anything to have the store though. He would give up his own miserable business job to have this humble shop.

Letting out a defeated sigh, the man drove his leather gloved hand in the center of his mane in which made his blonde hair to unravel messily about his head. He pouted his cheeks, making them a slight pink, while looking across the counter as if he expected someone behind it. Tapping his fingers quietly onto the counter, the man just smiled before shrugging and turning around to leave.

"I'll come back soon, I guess." His voice was muffled and mischievous as his dark sapphire eyes shown a delight of some sort. His free hand unconsciously grabbed the leather hat that he had earlier placed onto the counter. Swiftly pulling the hat over his head, he let out a wide, charming grin as he could not help but feel the happiness swell in his heart.

All he could hear was his heart pounding in calm excitement.

Exiting from the Coffee Area he had found a rather strange site of another young man racing towards the popular Tea Site, and without realizing a huge grin smugly found an area through his lips.

He didn't know why but there was a strange force urging him to meet up with this other being. He didn't know what, but it called for him to remember _something_.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry Matthew, I was busy cleaning up the place and I had to go to the Laundromat because you know my washing machine was broken!" Another man hollered in his phone while walking briskly pass the coffee shop, his eyes were concentrated in the shop in front of him, the well known tea store in which Wang owned. His heart was pounding after racing all the way from his street towards the local city-walking one, and he just didn't have the time to stop and catch a breath.

"Yes, Yes, I know, I'll be there in a few! See, I'm right across from it at the moment." The Briton replied letting out a scowl as a streetlight hurriedly turned red to prevent him from crossing. "I'll talk to you later, bye." He shut his cell phone rather annoyed at the timing of the lights and traffic. Out of all times, why did the streets have to be so full? "God, I'm ALMOST there! ALMOST THERE!" The Briton spoke to no one in particular as he squinted at the black-tinted windows of Wang's Bakery/Tea store.

A shadow loomed over his tiny frame, as he found shade above him from someone else.

"Hahaha, are you in a hurry for something?" A voice casually decided to converse with him, and never before had his face tinted with so much pink blush as he stuttered incoherent words.

After a while of solitude from any magic, Arthur had still found it hard to make friends from in the Town even though most people began to see a change in his "sanity." He has made some considerable acquaintances, and yet he was always the one to start a conversation with someone; not vice-versa. People still didn't trust his level of coherence, and so a person coming up to him was strange in itself. This person _could_ just be a tourist; just a friendly tourist he thought to himself quietly as he stared at the shadow near his own, feeling some sort of familiarity to it.

The one thing though that pissed him off, was that the person was a bit _nosy_ for hearing him in the first place, and he had the mind to scold the other man into listening on other people's conversation. Seriously, an obnoxious stranger is a rather unacceptable type of person in face of a proper society. His face then heated up another considerable shade while thinking about the person who was talking to him, and as the light turned green the Briton just left without another word.

If that man could be rude, so could he.

Honestly, the nerve of some people these days!

Back shown in front of him, the other man just shook his head in utter annoyance, but decided to just leave it at that to see the Briton dash away from him. If he could think more, he could have sworn the Briton looked a tad familiar, but he had absolutely _no_ clue; he just after all got back from the hospital with amnesia and nothing but a brother as a link to the world he lived in now.

Yes, all he could remember was a car crash, a faint light and black that consumed his entire vision.

And upon waking up, all he saw was a brother in front of him, the only person who knew who he was, and the only person who could take care of him. So of course, he _had_ to be nosey, especially when someone looked particularly familiar to him. Jeez, that Briton was rather stuffy wasn't he!

The American grunted and turned around, giving up the day – almost, until deciding to head towards the library to return a book. His little brother, sheesh, who read stories about such ridiculous tales, he didn't know?

The young man clutched tightly onto a brown package between his fingers as he headed his way back towards the center of the town.

* * *

"So, who was that guy you were with? I couldn't really see him – but….I don't know, I just can't believe you were with a guy!" Francis exclaimed as Arthur finally reached the shop and ordered his usual before socking the Frenchman in the guts due to his incredibly impatient behavior; especially on the case of today.

Matthew only smiled softly as he stirred his cup of tea quietly while looking considerably happier than the last time Arthur and he had met.

He had certainly become livelier than before, maybe more plump. It was as if all the energy that was drunk with sadness had left the American and passed it onto Arthur instead.

Arthur couldn't say anything though, he was happy that Matthew found some peace within himself.

"I don't know who you're talking about first of all," the Briton continued as he inhaled the fragrance of herbal tea while darting glares at the Frenchman who looked skeptical at him. "And I hadn't seen his face, so I probably couldn't tell; although I'm sure it was a tourist, I haven't heard someone talk like that in a while. Nosey, and annoying, a tourist is always like that. " The Briton paused, thinking of a certain voice that could fill his mind that maybe somehow was familiar to the voice he heard not too long ago.

Honestly, even in a year he forgot Alfred's voice.

He was scared though. He was scared to forget everything about Alfred, and just losing the memory of how his voice sounded made his heart skip so much beats.

Matthew and Francis only seemed to shrug, their eyes were a bit clouded as they silently looked at one another and then at Arthur.

This was the first year anniversary of Alfred's death, and Arthur knew how much Matthew could get when even a slip of Alfred's name gets caught in a sentence. He would be fragile with the subject, and always most of the time frigid whenever his brother's name left his own tongue.

Francis had been helping the American cope with the tragedy, and steadily the two had become quite close much to Arthur's chagrin. Honestly, seeing much love blossom from a tragedy wasn't quite fair to him; especially since the tragedy was mostly his burden now.

His heart always ached, and even if he hardly remembered Alfred's voice, the trace of his love for him was still there, somewhere in his heart. He could still feel it resonating within him. It was a sorrowful song, playing an aching tune; waiting for someone to just stop it.

WAITING FOR SOMEONE, no, waiting for that one person who would never come back.

As if unbeknownst to him, tears began to slide as he found Matthew and Francis utterly happy.

Why? Why was he feeling so melancholic? Of course, it was the anniversary date; and yet, there was something in the air that made him choke up.

And then the door opened, and light trickled in; and everything seemed to stop as the frigid air raced against his bare skin.

Even the faces of Francis and Matthew looked as cold while the air flew in.

"A-Ano," Kiku started quietly as he gazed at the shadow behind him. A chuckle, escaped from the man's lips; and a small boy just wailed in complaint that he wanted some sugary sweet. "What would you like…Mr.…?" Even Kiku seemed to be bothered by the man's appearance, much to Arthur's disappointment he couldn't really see the man who was in his blind spot.

"How about, two strawberry cheesecakes and one cup of water for the little kid!" The man responded naturally while rustling the little figure next to him who just grunted in a rather distasteful behavior.

The child seemed a bit pissed off at the man, that's what Arthur could tell; but DAMN! The way Francis and Matthew stared at him, made him want to turn around and catch a glance at him.

"Ok, kiddo, let's sit down." The American smiled sweetly while scooping the younger one in his huge arms and placing him in a booth beside theirs.

…He could understand the reason Matthew and Francis' face were like that.

He could understand that the tone of his heart reached a new high pitch, and a new song was playing.

Either sad or happy, he didn't know though.

Light filtered near the American and the little child before him. The boy was pouting, looking extremely angry. He had white messy hair and pretty red eyes; he looked like Gilbert for a moment, but he was too cute and beautiful to ever be like Gilbert. The child looked about seven, and seemed somewhat a bit too mature; even though he was currently displaying a childlike demeanor.

The other person though, was Arthur's main concern.

If he could say the name out loud, he looked just like _him_.

Golden hair, as fresh as the sunshine swept grass, and blue eyes as bright as the Carolina blue skies, a flashing smile; proud and modest, and a tanned skin that was beautiful. He looked just like Alfred, he acted just like Alfred, but…how could it be?

His heart pattered with so much intensity it made him feel the beat rather too harshly, and therefore he stumbled a bit as he continued to look.

Kiku came and offered the order to the two males, and Alfred, Arthur hoped he was, was chewing rather obnoxiously at the sweet. The boy on the other hand was having none of it.

"OH, come on, that book wasn't any good any ways, you wouldn't have finished it, so go and eat before it becomes….weird." Alfred responded childishly as he poked the boy's cheeks with his freehand and laughed.

If it was Alfred, Arthur would have laughed alongside him.

"I liked that book! I don't care if there's a due date! No one's there at the library anyways." The boy muttered back, gazing at his cake rather hungrily. Alfred just smiled and poked the boy in the cheek again.

"It would have been bad if you just kept it to yourself."

"It's not like anyone would read about Zodiacs." The boy responded too quickly, and Arthur's heart fluttered.

Zodiacs… long-lost….friends.

"Whatever, we'll get it back ok? So eat up!" The man sighed, staring at the boy quite testily before taking another huge bite.

He was so like Alfred, well; at least he seemed to share the same table manners as him.

"Really?"

"Of course!"

He didn't know what became of him, but he began to stand up; ignoring the stares Matthew and Francis had on him. Could this be really Alfred? Could this be Makara's doing? The Zodiac's doing?

His heart fluttered.

He was aching.

"**Alfred, that guy is staring at us. It's weird."** The boy whispered, pointing at him as he was standing in the middle of the room gazing at them with a shocked expression. "It's as if he has seen a ghost!" The boy laughed, knowingly, his eyes crinkled up sweetly as his mouth chewed softly onto a silver fork.

Alfred…So it was really him…

"Psh, and I thought _I_ was the one with rude manners." Alfred responded, gazing at the same man who had lectured him on the way to the library/tea shop respectively. "What, did you see a ghost?" The man stared at him for a while, before breaking into a smile and staring at Matthew and Francis behind him.

"I think they did, big brother." The boy whispered, gazing at Arthur fondly.

It was as if he knew him already.

But, big brother?

Surely…?

"Well, _someone's seems_ interested in the awesome **me**." It was so typically Alfred. "I guess I can't help it, I'm too kind. Come, sit and join us!" The man smirked as he slid over to the side and motioned Arthur over.

"I've been meaning to talk to you since this morning." He announced, but all Arthur heard was a muffled noise; and his heart was the only one singing.

"N-Nice to meet you (again)." The Briton began, obviously wide-eyed at the American.

"Nice to meet you too," He smiled, staring at him with the same kindness Alfred had for him long ago.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, ….I work for the coffee shop down the road from here."

"REALLY? That's amazing! I love that place! Man, does it give me the Goosebumps!"

His voice was so strangely sweet, it tore Arthur's heart as he spoke to him once more. But this time, his words were more meaningful; his words could reach him.

A grunt was heard in the corner, and the two looked over at the albino child.

Alfred's "little brother" gazed at him with a dried frown. He seemed shy, but he was definitely very social when he wanted to be. Alfred stared at the child lovingly, as if he had seen Matthew in him. Arthur didn't know what to think, but did Alfred really see Matthew in that child? Or was this a completely different Alfred?

Was it still his Alfred?

"Sorry for not introducing myself earlier, my name is Alfred Jones…and this is my little brother, his name is Makara…" The man replied sheepishly while staring brightly into his eyes. He could hear Matthew's voice hitch and Francis comforting him as he ordered another sweet to cool off the other American's relief. Arthur gazed at Alfred with stern, green eyes, and then back to "Makara."

_So, he knew all along, didn't he?_

Even without memories, love can still be achieved by the same people.

"Nice to meet you, I hope we become good friends."

_It was as if he was restarting life all over again, and despite the pain that had entered everyone's heart at his first sight; there was nothing but relief that swooned everyone into crying. It was as if nothing really happened, and yet everyone knew there was something beyond them that was watching them; helping them. They did not know what would be beyond their sight, but hope still remained, and will continue to go on. _

_Don't lose hope & continue to love._


End file.
